Fractured Mind, Broken Soul
by royalvite
Summary: "He may be blind, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't get a second chance." Roy, after being sent out on a mission to Briggs, manages to land himself in a whole lot of trouble when he finds a broken, blonde teenager with scars that extended past physical. Now a psycho was on the loose and there was a murderer to catch... [AU][parental!RoyEd][blind!Ed][M for: blood, torture, etc.]
1. chapter 00: prologue

_this was requested for me to do so guess what? it's being done._

 _thanks for reading and please, don't hesitate to review,  
\- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
_ _written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER ZERO**

 _( prologue )_

.

" _Colonel Mustang, there is a call for you from Lieutenant Colonel Hughes_."

The young man felt his onyx eyes roll within moments of hearing the formal tones of Central's receptionist. At the very prospect of speaking to Maes, he found himself groaning - not because he didn't like him; they were best friends, so of course he liked the man; but because he didn't feel in the mood for yet another eccentric speech about the Hughes family that he had heard millions of times before. The stacks of paperwork were getting taller and taller and he had no time to do anything else apart from work at this current period. "Patch me in," Roy Mustang spoke clearly into the phone, his tone purposefully cold and demanding.

... trust Roy to behave that way, eh?

Externally, Roy was a sophisticated man in the prime of his life. With a clean-shaven, baby-faced visage, the infamously cold Colonel certainly attracts a great deal of attention from his admirers. His dark hair, often falling over his eyes in a messy and unkempt style, had been slicked backwards with gel to add a formal tone to his atmosphere - the action had aided the dangerous air that swept around the man, the general expression brought by the fierce gleam in the pit of his onyx optics, contrasting harshly with the pale smoothness of the unblemished skin that stretched loosely over handsome features.

A great fan of classy attire, Roy was rarely seen dressed in something other than his military uniform (and even while in uniform will often don other impressive accouterments, such as a long, black overcoat and white formal-wear gloves); the outfits marked his muscled build, lanky yet strong in many kind of ways. But when dressed in civilian clothes, he appears rather partial to the three-piece suit and black tie (frequently coupled with classic scarves, polished dress shoes and the aforementioned overcoat and gloves). It was interesting to note that Roy tends toward dark or neutral colors in his dress, such as dark blue, brown and black tempered with minimal white.

On the surface, Roy seemed to be a shallow and self-absorbed youthful man, infamous among many of his colleagues and subordinates alike for the selfish and narcissistic aura he gives off. Easily as arrogant as any of his coequals, Colonel Mustang was one to act in an ostentatious manner and appears to act mostly out of self-interest rather than any sort of philanthropy. He comes off to most as a sort of cocky layabout, shirking most of his duties and delegating his paperwork to subordinates while sitting idly at his desk with an amused smile on his face as he procrastinates, but quick to take action when it appears that there is glory and military notoriety to be gained.

Though, many knew better than to assume such a personality in Roy. At the core, he was a remarkably devoted commander whose primary focus and personal duty is to his friends and subordinates. Though he hid it well behind a veil of cynicism and self-importance, Mustang was a man who cared deeply about the people who trust and support him and goes to great lengths to ensure their safety and well-being, even at the risk of his own. As a man with considerable power, Mustang considers himself a protector to those without and acts accordingly, earning the staunch loyalty of his most trusted compatriots.

Everyone else in the office seemed to look up at the sound of the Colonel speaking, but continued to sort through their own paperwork as soon as they realized that he was only on the phone and not relaying words to them. Jean Havoc, though, wore an expression that appeared more humorous than his other subordinates' seriously-set faces; it took Roy a few moments of listening to the crackling in the phone line as the call was patched in to notice that the blonde found something Hawkeye was doing quite funny. The Colonel sent Jean a half-hearted glare, reminding him to continue with the paperwork, before finally the familiar tone burst into his ear. " _Roy-Boy!"_ the voice shrilled brightly _, "a little birdie told me that you're stuck doing paperwork for the rest of the week_."

"Hughes, I don't have the time to hear about-"

" _Of course you do, but I don't_. _I'm calling you about a mission that seems to be signed under your name, actually_." The man's voice had gone from joking to refreshingly serious. At this, Roy visibly brightened and he leant forward on his desk, resting his elbows against it.

"A mission?" he repeated, catching his subordinates' attention - they all glanced up at him, the two appearing the most interested being Jean and Riza. "Signed under my name? What is the mission, Hughes?"

" _The mission description reads: Roy must find and eliminate an escapee convicted murderer, named the Blacksmith Alchemist when he had been a State-Alchemist a few years back, a psychotic man known as Caston 'Cato' Devon_."

"Cato? I remember him," Roy hummed thoughtfully, "he murdered quite a few innocent people who had been learning forms of alchemy to become a State-Alchemist - is that who you're talking about?" The other military soldiers in the room were listening fully now, leaning forward on their desks with cocked eyebrows and curious sparkles in the pit of their optics.

" _Ding, ding, ding! You got it, Roy-Boy. The guy who could only create weapons, torture devices and other things like that with his alchemic skills. I still don't get why he couldn't perform proper alchemy, but that doesn't matter. You need to kill him, preferably with little collateral damage, by the way. It's best you use a gun instead of your flame alchemy... we don't want to burn down things you don't need to. We all know how you like to go a bit... over the top_."

"A _gun_? Lame. Ah, well, at least I get to get out of doing paperwork for a bit. Where is he and when should I advance, Hughes?" The man stretched out on his chair, his finger absently drumming at the armrest as he ran his gaze over his subordinates. There sat Kain Fuery; ranked a young sergeant, Kain is uncommonly gentle and a helpful soldier, always willing to aid his peers and, most of all, younger and lower soldiers. He was a 'tech geek' and communications guru- he sometimes stated he had the luck to make his hobby become his job. He is the sole enlisted member of the unit as well as its youngest and smallest member.

The sole female in the unit; Riza Hawkeye was a weapons specialist whose job lies in parallel with the unit's hierarchy. She answered to Mustang alone and worked as his secretary, bodyguard and personal aide. She was the only member of the unit who was acquainted with the colonel prior to the war in Ishval, and the two have known each other for most of their lives. Considered to be one of the top sharpshooters in the State Military, Riza was highly regarded for her serious demeanor and discipline, though sometimes it made her seem unapproachable and aloof. Contrary to that image, however, those close to her enjoy teasing with her temperament and often state that she was a lot sweeter than she seems. She was the highest ranked subordinate in Mustang's unit, being a first lieutenant.

Then, sat with a cocky grin on his face, was Vato Falman. He was a warrant officer who specialized highly in intelligence and common sense, with extraordinary memory and knowledge, especially in history. However, his job was mostly connected to office work and he rarely participates in field operations. Though, extent of his information had proven to be extremely valuable and is highly necessary to the unit's work.

Jean Havoc - one of the best soldiers in the unit to speak to, thanks to his friendly and approachable attitude. He was regular but nevertheless capable as the rest, despite being rather talentless in any field; he compensated for his lack of natural talent with dedication and effort. His character and loyalty had been proven to Mustang beyond the shadow of a doubt and, therefore, he has been made the Officer-in-Chief of Mustang's Unit, coordinating the work of Breda, Falman and Fuery (but not Hawkeye). Although he had little combat experience, Havoc was the most efficient officer in field missions after Hawkeye.

Heymans Breda was an extremely talented soldier, graduating at the top of his class (Havoc was his classmate in the Academy) and was specialized in all sorts of information gathering, especially those that require travel and speaking different languages. His unimpressive appearance allows him to pass by unnoticed (or underestimated) by most military personnel, a trait he uses to his advantage in stealth missions. All in all, he was very valuable, as well as rather pleasant to converse with.

" _Ah, good! You're interested! Up in North -_ _quite far from Briggs but still in the colder region anyways - there's a rundown village called Cranebrook Burrow. It's got a very small population and they are loyal to the few citizens that live there, meaning that they wouldn't be outing Cato's location very easily. Just in case, I want you to pick someone in your unit to bring with you_. _Get up there by Monday_."

"Is R-"

" _Apart from Riza, Roy-Boy. I need her back here. Why don't you bring Havoc with you? He hasn't been on the field for a while and he could do with some fresh air. Plus, he's very capable; you know that._ " Roy glanced over at the blonde Officer-in-Chief in interest, to see him sat laughing behind his hand at a picture of a fat cat that Vato had drawn on the corner of a loose piece of paper. Rolling his eyes but doing nothing to snap him back into attention, the Colonel stifled a long sigh. " _Plus, he makes train journeys interesting. Ever played pun wars with him? He's been nicknamed the King Pun the First, he's that good._ "

Momentarily, Roy brought the phone away from his ear and sent a half-hearted snigger at Jean. "King Pun the First?" The grinning blonde's cheeks were sprinkled with a hint of shamed red as the rest of the Mustang Unit snickered behind their breaths - even Riza had to cover her mouth to hold back the loud snort that threatened to erupt from her throat like a volcano. "Fine. I'll bring him with me, Hughes, but you owe me one."

" _Yay! Now do you want to hear about my adorable little-_ " The phone made a gentle click as Roy set it down, glaring at it darkly. There was no way he was going to live through Mae's speech about how adorable his child was, do you want to see a picture of her when we were at the beach? He briefly registered Breda mocking Riza as she, as per usual, quietly told him to be easy on the phone, he was going to break it if he carried on.

"Yo Colonel," Havoc called out, twisting his cigarette between his lips, "what mission are ya going on? What does it have to do with Cato?"

"I'll tell you on the way there, Havoc," Roy responded absently, fingering through a small portion of the paperwork splayed messily across his desk. Upon noticing the puzzled looks he received at the statement, the Colonel forced himself to continue. "I was supposed to bring one of you with me, but Hughes told me take Jean out, because he hadn't been on the field for a long while. We're going up near Briggs, leaving tomorrow."

"Briggs? You'll freeze your ass off," Breda joked, earning a collective hum of agreement that echoed off the office's vast walls.

"Very funny, very funny. We'll kick ass up there, won't we, Boss?" Jean's visage seemed cockier then ever before but, instead of being annoyed by it, Roy found himself laughing at the proud smirk crossing his reasonably-handsome features.

"Well, I'll kick ass, you'll hide in the corner squealing as I do all the work."

"... rude."

* * *

 _that's the prologue done!_

 _this was requested on my other story so I actually started it and this came out... I like it so far! please mind that it is short because it's a prologue. anyhow, I like to do a fact about myself on the end of every chapter, so I'll pop one down here...  
_

 ** _fact:_** _I love Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, My Chemical Romance, Green Day and Breathe Carolina. good people. good songs. much love._

 _regarding reviews...  
please don't hesitate to offer your opinion! I prefer to read more detailed reviews instead of a one-liner 'please continue!'. while I don't mind that, I would really appreciate a longer, more detailed review. they make me smile like crazy! please don't hesitate! if you'd like a better chapter in a shorter time, go ahead and ward off writer's block with an amazing review. (:_

 _thank you for reading,  
\- **royalvite**._

 ** _INSERTS SELF PROMO_** _please read my other story, 'Silent Nightmares', and offer your opinion on that too!  
also, follow my anime trash Instagram account at trashianime. ;3 shameless promo, I know._


	2. chapter 01: ice

_wow, you guys seemed to really like the prologue! the reviews were so lovely._

 _ **TheNewModrenDemigods:** thank you so much! and those bands are pretty awesome, aren't they?  
_

 ** _Glass-Lady-Of-The-Opera:_** _#banter (I'll stop). thank you! and I was nervous that I made then characters out of character - I'm glad that someone thinks they aren't as OOC as I thought they'd turn out. (:_

 ** _Citrus Fruit Monster:_** _and my worst I will do *smirks evilly*. hurt!Ed fics are literally all I read. whoops, I guess I'm a bit psycho..._

 ** _Mel Mad:_** _thank you very much!_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _by the way, your username is awesome. and yay, someone likes my writing! that's good to know. and everyone loves parental!RoyEd, especially when Ed is hurt... (;_

 _anyway, thank you so much for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter,  
- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 _( ice )_

.

The jagged blurs of faded green bushes, rolling emerald hillsides and stunning stretches of yellowed fields and healing paddocks sped dizzily in the onyx pupils of Roy Mustang's dangerous eyes, doing nothing to hide the distant sheen that glassed over the dark colour like a sheet of snow blanketing over a broken valley - the window's glass was cold and polished against the Colonel's unblemished forehead as he heavily leant his head against its smoothed surface, staring mutely at the passing countryside with little interest. It was if he wasn't even in the train compartment, not mentally anyway; either he didn't want to be there or he just had his mind devoted to thinking about other matters.

Usually, Roy didn't sulk as badly as this unless something was on his mind, or if he had just participated in an argument he had lost. Counting that Jean had driven up to collect his superior first thing in the morning, before he could have had any possible conflict with someone else, he was pretty sure it was the latter of the two different choices. The blonde wasn't entirely sure what could be on Roy's mind and he instinctively knew that he'd only receive a half-hearted "nothing" and the uncomfortably icy feeling you get when someone gives you the cold shoulder; therefore, questioning it would make no difference to the situation. If anything, it would only worsen the tense atmosphere.

Determined to finally make his Boss brighten up, Jean Havoc leant forward and tapped the older man on the shoulder, startling him so severely that he nearly fell off his seat. "Havoc!" he barked sharply, though the smirking blonde could clearly hear the humor behind his words, "don't do that! You scared the shit out of me... why is this train so bumpy?" As if to strengthen the question, both members of the military were suddenly thrown around in their seats; Jean knocked against the window heavily and Roy nearly fell onto the floor face-first. The movement caused a slight uproar from the other passengers, who clearly didn't enjoy the sharp jerking moments and had as much trouble adjusting to it as the military officers did.

"... maybe the railway has a safety problem and they tried to _cover its tracks_." The quip was followed by a click-and-point hand movement, making the joke seem cheesier than it should have been. Both young men could hear a groan from somewhere in the same train compartment and someone else called out 'laaaame' at Jean, who sheepishly laughed and gave the random speaker a cheeky wave.

Roy made a half-amused noise, his hands gripping the edge of the seat tighter in order to keep his balance as the train's movement began to increase in strength. "King Pun the First. I forgot."

"Puns about _monorails_ always make for decent _one-liners_ , I suppose."

" _Ughhhhhhh_."

"I guess that the repairs weren't _on track_."

"Shut _up_ , Jean."

"Maybe the railroad conductors didn't go to their _retraining_."

"For the sake of the Lord and Savior, Jean, shut up before I break your neck..."

The blonde immediately eased backwards, biting harder on his cigarette's ashen tips as the train jolted once more, sharply jogging his jaw's movement. A burst of smoky powder sprinkled his tongue and Jean spluttered, sliding the cigar out between his lips and into his fingers as he tried to get it all out of his mouth. " _Maes_ appreciates my puns," he grumbled under his breath sourly after eventually recovering, giving Roy a half-hearted look that only relayed his distaste for the Colonel's grouchy attitude. However, the expression was returned with one equally as bitter, if not more so. Amplifying his tone to audible levels, Jean stretched in a manner that briefly resembled an exhausted cat. "So, can you explain why you're dragging me out near Briggs, Boss?"

The way he held his shoulders looked loose and friendly despite speaking to a man very high in power, as if not really having a care in the world about how he addressed the frowning Colonel. Of course, this was only characteristic for the breezy blonde male; he tended to treat everyone - including his superiors - as if they were at the same level at him, even if they didn't want that. It could have been seen as a good habit but some higher-ups found it rather disrespectful. Despite this, Jean always refused to change his attitude, arguing evenly that they were all human beings that should be treated as equally as the rest. Somehow, he hadn't gotten fired for this behavior, but Roy wasn't complaining whatsoever.

In fact, the raven-haired Colonel rather enjoyed the kindly treatment most of the time. While he knew that he had a cold and dangerous demeanor outwardly, he secretly loved being spoken to as if he were a human being instead of an all mighty Colonel in the military; in return, he acted towards his coequals in the same way. When there wasn't a superior in the Mustang Unit's imposing office, the members of their 'meme team' (that's what Breda often called it, anyway) would banter as if they were all friends at the pub instead of military soldiers performing important business. Even on field missions, there would be humorous conversations between the unit when they had the free chance, which was sometimes frowned upon - despite this, they wouldn't hesitate to crack a joke or make a terrible pun.

"I was hoping I could freeze-thaw you," Roy grumbled unhelpfully, still feeling sulky from the awful puns.

"That's _cold_ , Boss. _Chill_ out a little."

"Jean, I swear to God-"

"Let's not break the _ice_!"

"Jean-" Roy briefly paused as the blonde heaved something square and metallic out of the bottom of his bag, holding it up in the air by the handle dramatically, "-is... is that a fucking _cheese grater_? Did you bring a fucking cheese grater with you just so you can make a cheese pun? If you make a fucking cheese pun I swear you will be ashes-" The older man, though, was abruptly cut off with the sentence that was long-awaited.

"I know it's _cheesy_ , but I feel _grate_!"

"JEAN."

"That pun was the _icing_ on the cake, though."

"JEANNNNN."

"Okay, okay, I'm done now." Still chortling quietly under his breath, Jean shamelessly tucked the cheese grater - which he had, without the shadow of a doubt, shoved into his possession just to make that one pun - back into the depths of his bag and looked back up at Roy through tousled blonde bangs, his sharp grey eyes sparkling in comical humor and a very, very faint sense of defeat. Although, a ghost of a cheeky grin still whispered the man's face, making it known that he still had a few puns up his sleeve; Roy could only hope that he wouldn't pull them out again. "Could you explain the mission to me, now? I'm starting to think you kidnapped me..." he made a mock-surprised noise, "are you going to molest me?!"

Roy, blandly ignoring the comments, started to mentally refer back to the mission plan Hughes had handed over to him as him, Riza and Major Armstrong waved the two off. "Alright. So, we're going up near Briggs, though we aren't actually going inside - I have confirmation papers signed by Bradley in my pocket that we'll show any guard that approaches us as we travel. We're looking for a small, rural village named Cranebrook Burrow. I've been informed that the habitants are protective of their own, so we'll have trouble locating Cato without people trying to tell us he isn't there. That won't matter, I don't think."

At this, Jean cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "How do we know that he is there for sure?" he asked skeptically, stormy eyes now staring out of the window. The sky was beginning to grow grayer as they neared the cold Northern climate, he noticed with a soft hum, but no snow blanketed the countryside or fell peacefully from the thick billow.

"Hughes says there were soldiers from Briggs investigating the area and they saw a man that fit his description exactly - dark eyes, tan skin, long pale hair, muscled and tall - but they had no idea that it was Cato from Central Command, for obvious reasons. Also, there's some security footage of him speaking to a citizen from Cranebrook Burrow and they called him by his full name, Caston, many times. There was also the anklet the prisoners wear around one of his ankles and after zooming in on the image it had his name on it. Therefore, we have reason to believe that he is indeed Cato and he is in the Burrow."

"Alright, that makes sense, but what do we do once we've found him?"

"I've been ordered to kill him immediately. You're here to make sure that I only use my gun-" Roy lifted the pistol, flipping it expertly through his fingers before sliding it back into the leather holster attached to his belt, "-and so I don't go over the top. Also, you may want to take these." He pulled his gloves carefully from his hands, pushing them across the table to Jean, who took them and studied them with a soft touch - the blonde had never been trusted to touch the Colonel's ignition gloves before! Who knew they were silky and thin? "But I'm keeping my lighter with me... only because I know you and your smoking habits."

Almost shamefully, Jean took the unlit cigarette from between his lips and gave the man a pointed look. "... alright then, Boss. Just make sure you don't use it, or I will confiscate it off you until we get back to Central Command. Man, it feels good to order you around!" He paused, before the gleefully humorous expression was replaced with one of more serious matters. "What do we have to do with the body? Just... bury it?"

"I would have thought so," Roy responded thoughtfully, "I think it will be easy, though. Cato is a convicted murderer who uses his alchemy for no good - there won't be any remorse in killing him. Besides, I never liked him anyways. He always thought he was above everybody else despite only being a _Major_ and it always frustrated me."

"I wonder why he turned, though," Jean said nonchalantly, offering the Colonel a lazy grin, "from a State-Alchemist to a murderer. Shame, really; I heard he was actually really talented in both the field and in office work. Do y'happen to know why he murdered those specific people, or did no one tell you?" The question was innocent, but it made Roy stiffen slightly. This was visible, however, as Jean's expression suddenly grew weary and a tad concerned, but the tall blonde said nothing in objection and listened heartily.

"I was told that the people he murdered were training to become State-Alchemists," Roy said calmly, though his voice shook only very slightly with a sense of uncertainty, "this lead me to believe that he was trying to lower the numbers of State-Alchemists, though he apparently never told the military why he did it exactly. All he said, word to word, was 'I'm trying to help the world'. We've never quite deciphered it fully, because there are so many different meanings to the sentence." Roy was stretched out a little now, his exhaustion taking its toll on the Colonel's eyelids.

"That's fucked up," Jean said rather blandly, earning a snort from Roy, "but then again, all State-Alchemists _are_ these days. The worst one so far is Armstrong - I think I need to put a restraining order on that guy. The amount of times he's ripped off his shirt, cried and _sparkled_ is so high that it isn't really surprising anymore."

"But, he's a good soldier," Roy argued, though there was no venom in his tone, "who is incredibly strong with both muscle and alchemic talent and a fantastic ally to work with. I'm awfully glad he's on our side, or we'll be dead meat if we meet him. I would never go up to Briggs with him though, he'll just want to go see his sister and I have no intention of actually going inside of the Command Center. I want this mission over and done with, to be honest."

"I thought you wanted to get out of office work, Boss. Finishing early would mean you have to get back to it quicker, unless something else comes up and you're sent on another mission out... which I seriously doubt would happen this month. The crime levels are always low around this time of the year... that isn't a bad thing, I guess." Jean hesitated mutely. "Next time you go on a mission, you should bring Riza out with you. She kept glaring at me after you said I was coming. She's crazy into you, so it's understandable."

At this, Roy gave Jean the darkest glare he could muster with the train's movement making him feel a little queasy. "She's my subordinate! She knows that she's not allowed to 'love' her superiors. Besides, I don't think she likes me in that way and I don't like her in that way either," he grumbled uneasily.

"Ah, I think differently," Jean responded fluently, his eyebrows wiggling in a suggestive manner, "you're hot, you're young, you're charming; what's there not to like? Plus, you once brought her a car full of flowers. That sounds like love to me, Boss. Sorry~!" The statement earned a rather rude hand gesture from the Colonel, who sulked childishly in his seat.

"I was drunk!"

"GET A ROOM WITH 'ER."

Roy keeled on his seat and glared at the back of the train compartment, where the man who had shouted out put one of his hands in a circle shape and stuck his finger through the hole, announcing the movement to the entire train compartment with the rude hand motion. Jean snorted in triumph and put a thumbs up over his seat, silently congratulating the stranger.

.

The blizzard seemed to be raging harder than ever as Roy Mustang and Jean Havoc trekked across the snowy landscape, their hair smothered with the hood of their thick winter cloaks that they had kept warm in their bags for the occasion. For miles, they could see nothing - the fog was impossibly thick and the buckets of snow that fell over their eyes concealed their vision down to a dim meter range. Underneath their feet, the snow was a little shallower then knee-deep, making it harder and harder to trudge over the misty countryside the more they went.

Occasionally, with Jean's expressive permission ("does this mean I'm technically in charge of you?"), Roy would pull his lighter out and snap his fingers - which were gloved with thicker gloves not made for ignition,- sending a spray of hot fire streaming into the air. This would bring momentary warmth to both members of the military, something that they both treasured in such a freezing atmosphere. Why Briggs was so damn cold, they would never knew; Roy was just glad that the snow wasn't wet and didn't soak him to the core, rendering him rather useless.

"It should be just near here!" Roy shouted into the wind, looking back at Jean, who drastically exaggerated his nod to show that he could hear the Colonel. The blonde jogged - quickly waded, actually - through the snow to get closer to Roy. "The report said that it was hidden between some mountains near Briggs! Look, the mountains are there!"

"I can see smoke from the mountainside!" Jean observed loudly, pulling his hood back over his blonde hair as the strong gales blew it down again. "That must be the Burrow, Boss!" For a while, they trekked in silence, both rubbing their hands together and curling in tighter as they walked. Roy pulled out his lighter and snapped his hands under his coat in habit; the motion sent a spray of beautiful orange flame through the snow, licking the air with its striking touch and sending a burst of warmth clouding over the area. The sensation made Jean grin to himself and he pulled his arms out of his sleeves, holding them to his chest as an attempt to keep his hands from freezing over completely. Frostbite was a possibility in such icy climates and they had little medical supplies with them to treat it - all they had was bandages, disinfectant and a pair of scissors.

.

But, in their shivery sorrow, Jean's constant squinting appeared to have paid off. A silhouette, one cuboid-shaped and streaming with a comforting cloud of smoke from a pole on the top (A.K.A, a chimney, as Roy had said), sat in the midst of the thickening blizzard. Upon noticing it, Jean had been over the moon and had leapt onto a pissed Roy, excitedly pointing at what appeared to be a building and talking inaudibly at how warm he hoped the inside would be. While the Colonel hadn't made any obvious reaction, internally he was practically crying with glee; being out in the Northern region during heavy snowstorms all the while dripping with water and smelling painfully damp wasn't exactly what he liked to do with his days.

Roy was the first to see the sign, though - he latched onto it the moment he noticed it, his hands kneading the text he peered down to read. It was with a racing heart he loudly announced out to Jean that they had arrived and the blonde promptly shot forward, wading as fast as his exhausted legs would allow to get to the village. "Thank the Lord!" Jean half-shouted, half-laughed into the wind, "I can barely feel my legs! Or my arms! Or anything! I can't feel anything, Boss!" With that, he wobbled hurriedly past Roy (who had to rush further in order to catch up) and into what appeared to be a long row of houses.

It was rather desolate, to say the least; unsurprisingly, there were no people walking around in the outdoors, having gone inside to shield themselves from the violent cold climates in the eternal world. If one hadn't seen the light breaking through the edges of the curtains in the many windows, they could have said that Cranebrook Burrow was positively abandoned and left out to die in the cold fingers of Northern icy temperatures. That had been what Roy had thought at first, until Jean had blandly pointed to the activated lights. However, this wasn't necessarily a good thing; if Cato still felt blood-thirsty and couldn't control his gory hunger, who knows how many people he could slaughter in such an under watched area?

The houses were made to last, Roy noticed as he looked one over with the critical eye of a health inspector; the walls were of a thick, secure cobble, with vines and ice crawling up the sides like a beautiful spray of green and blue paint over a dull grey canvas. There was a front porch to nearly every one, made of a dark mahogany wooden sliding with an overhanging roof tiled as the rest of the house. Without proper vision, Roy was unable to see close-up details of each and every house, but what he could see was enough to decide that, when the snow cleared a little, it would be a very beautiful place indeed.

"Where _is_ Cato?" Jean asked suddenly, snapping Roy back into reality. The raven-haired male was unsure of this himself; Hughes had never mentioned where he could be, only that he was known to be residing in Cranebrook Burrow - which, he realized, was actually a good plan. This was one of the only villages unmonitored twenty-four/seven by the military (not even Briggs looked at the cameras, apparently) and it was little-known to the country, as well as hidden in a secretive, snow-blanketed valley. It only made sense that a homicidal former State-Alchemist would hide in such a hidden place.

"I... I don't know," he responded gingerly, "Hughes never told me and the mission plan didn't say."

"Well _that's_ useful!" Jean raged, violent shivers shaking his body as the cold in the atmosphere worsened, "can we find a house and ask if we can warm up in there? It's f-freezing." The mock-venom that had once been in his tone had withered down to little more than an unsteady stutter and Roy's brow furrowed, all too concerned that his valued subordinate was going to drop unconscious from the severe weather conditions batting at their bodies. "Damn, I wish I had a cigarette with me..."

"Come on, let's go into this house before you freeze your ass off." With a brotherly hint of worry, the older man grabbed Jean by the wrist and dragged him towards the nearest house - it was a little smaller than the rest, with walls that were more worn down and the roof over the front porch sagging at the sizable pile of fresh white snow that had built up on top of it. The blonde's face erupted into a grin the moment they left the grasp of the blizzard, shield under the porch, despite it still being colder than Roy's dangerous aura (which was pretty damn icy).

"Are you s-sure? It looks kind of..." Jean trailed off hesitantly, motioning at the house.

"Rundown? Yeah, I agree, but it was the nearest house." Roy took no notice of his subordinate's muffled noise of protest as he delivered three heavy knocks to the door, which seemed to be chipping and rusting at the hinges. They creaked in objection at the sudden touch, shaking as if they would drop their support on the house's door at any moment, but Roy took no notice of this. He was just curious as to why the house was in awful condition compared to the rest, and why whoever was inside wasn't answering. There had to be someone inside - there were candles lit inside (though, the lights weren't on), he noticed from the amount of light breaking past the thin curtains hanging over the windows - so why weren't they coming down?

He glanced back at Jean, who had shuffled closer to retain some body heat from the Colonel, who didn't flinch or push him off as the blonde leant on him a little; he obviously wasn't used to such extreme weather climates and was having a difficult time adjusting, while Roy was used to the Northern's icy cold; he had been up to Briggs so many times with Major Armstrong and a few unnamed others that it just didn't bother him anymore. Nonetheless, he still wasn't enjoying the blizzard that just _had_ to rage in the heavens as they arrived. It was like the world was against them all of a sudden.

"H-hey Boss?" Jean said quietly.

"Mmm?"

"C-can you h-h-hear that-t?"

 _Is he hallucinating?_ the Colonel wondered internally, his concern for the man's state growing. "No... are you okay, Havoc...?" he inquired honestly, his onyx eyes shimmering with brotherly worry. _Is the cold getting to him so much that he's hearing things? That can't be normal, right?_ He only motioned to the door, then his ear. Instantly, Roy understood and - with great care as to not break the door - placed his ear up to the wooden surface. It took a moment of simply listening to silence, but that was when he heard it.

Crying.

Someone was crying inside of the sagging building and it didn't sound like a depressed kind of cry; it sounded more like the desperate cry of someone who really, really needed some medical assistance. And Roy didn't hesitate to act upon hearing this.

Without so much of a warning, the man pressed his foot to the door and pushed a fraction of his weight into that leg. The door screamed in protest before finally shattering under the pressure, spraying splinters of wood onto the inside of the house - the crying seemed to have stopped in the forced entry, which made it harder to detect the location of the sobbing person in the building. As well as that, the candles seemed to have been blown out by the wind coming in from the door "Hello?" he called softly, not wanting to startle said person who may or may not be in the house. There was something in the air that he didn't like and, unfortunately, it was a strong stench he _didn't like_.

From somewhere behind him, Jean let out a short, nervous squeal and half-shouted about treading in something sticky on the ground. The blonde's face was pallor, but that could have been the dim lighting of the blizzard outside "Havoc, we need medical supplies," Roy said shakily, paling as he looked down at his feet as well. Instead of the wooden flooring as he had expected, it was coated in an unhealthy amount of crimson, which still continued to run around their shoes.

 _Blood..._

"Shit, shit, shit." Roy cursed under his breath, ignoring the painful sloshing sound his feet made as he ran deeper into the house. The smell was getting stronger as he reached the middle of the room, which he realized now was barely furnished - his eyes had grown used to the darkness, though the corners were still shadowed from view. "Hello? Hello, is anyone here?!" The air was thicker and harder to breath in the more he tried - he could feel himself near to suffocation as he tried to get some clean oxygen into his system. The stench was unbearable and it was making him tense.

Someone was bleeding out. By the looks of it, they would be near to death; there was too much blood. It covered nearly the entire floor in the room and it was quite a large area, from what he could see.

Whoever it was, they needed medical help, and fast.

Jean's own calling was cut off as he audibly tripped over something; with a strained yelp the blonde fell to the floor, his hands put out in front of him as a vain attempt to catch himself before his body hit the pool of blood collected underneath their mass. "Ah, crap!" he cussed fiercely, succeeding in landing on his palms, "what did I trip on? Now I have- oh... _shit_..." Roy turned around to see what Havoc had cursed about, expecting to see him unhappy about getting blood literally on his hands. After all, the man had barely any combat experience, and while he didn't seem too shaken up by the blood and horrific stench, he hadn't fought in the Ishbalan Civil War like him and Riza had; he would find it more startling than those experienced in the field of gore.

But what he saw wasn't what he expected.

 _At all_.

"Get away from it, Havoc!" he immediately shouted, running towards the blonde as he scrambled to his feet and scampered away from the area, his breaths shaking. The Colonel slipped his pistol from its leather holster but didn't load it, simply holding it at his side for protection as he stooped hesitantly to see the object closer. There, lying on the ground in a limp, bloodied mess, was the body of Caston - the Blacksmith Alchemist. It wasn't mangled or tortured, but he could clearly see the reason of his death - embedded directly into his heart was a pair of rusting hedge clippers, sunken into the man's chest up to where the handle began.

Roy stepped away and held a hand over his mouth, trying not to gag. _Who could have done this?_ "B-Boss..." Jean stuttered nervously from behind Roy, "is th-that...?" He trailed off, a dry-heave wracking his shaken body. "I c-can't l-look at him..."

"It's okay, Havoc. Just... stand out side if you need to. I need to find out who did this and who was crying earlier... probably the s-same person..." The air seemed to shift as the blonde took his superior's advice and jogged outside; Roy could hear the man dry-heaving as soon as he was on the front porch. He felt awfully sorry for him - he had little experience with death compared to Roy and while he had seen bodies before, he had seen them a lot less then Roy.

For a while, Roy stood, evaluating the body with onyx eyes glistening with faint tears of both disgust and nerves. It was definitely Cato; while his skin was paled from death, it was obviously once tanned near to the shade of an Ishbalan's dark colour. Long, dark hair was splayed around his limp head in a tousled arc and his eyes were the same hue as Roy's - if not, blacker - though they were open and dull. Carefully, Roy placed his hand on the man's chest, his fingers ghosting the man's chest with a precise touch. The body was still warm, despite being bathed in an icy climate.

The killer was close.

But before he could stand up to search, a small movement from a shadowed corner of the room caught his attention and he whipped around, holding his gun up to his shoulder and narrowing his eyes. "Who's there?" he demanded sharply, searching the darkness. "I know you're there-" But he cut off, as Jean (who had apparantly come back into the room now) pulled his lighter out of his pocket and used it to light a candle he held in his hands. The sudden source of light lit up the corner and both men's breath caught in their throats as soon as they realized just what had moved. "H-holy mother of... Havoc, get the med kit. _Now!_ " he ordered; the blonde obliged silently and placed the candle beside Roy, barely giving the corner a second glance before running outside, where they had discarded their bags.

As soon as he had disappeared, Roy looked over their startling discovery, his heart thumping at his chest so hard he was sure his ribs would explode under the weight. It was a kid - he looked maybe twelve or thirteen years old with his minuscule size, but he was positive that it was because of how skinny he was. His cheekbones jutted out, his shoulders were bony and narrow, his body too skinny and tiny in every way. It was difficult to tell with the ragged cloak, dark, ripped shirt and worn jeans of his exact condition, but what he could see wasn't good.

It took a moment, but there was a pulse - he was still alive.

Was that good or bad at this rate?

There were bruises littered all over the boy's face, mostly around his temples and closed eyes, that ranged from a dark, unhealthy crimson to a shade of purple that could be classified as positively unnatural - and there were minor slices in the startlingly pallor skin on his cheeks and above his eyebrows. Scars, clear and white, lined his sharp jaw, looking like a knife had cut into his limp face with accurate movement. As if it had been intentional.

But the worst of what he could see?

Roy's heart stopped beating as he realized that there were only two limbs on the boy's body, both of which hung limp on the blood-soaked floor. There was a lot of blood pouring out of jaggedly-sliced stumps where his right arm and left leg should be like an activated tap and it frightened Roy that there was little he could do until they got back to a Command center, the nearest being Briggs. Now that he looked closer, Roy noticed with a pale face that his remaining hand was draped over his stomach, where a rip in his shirt surrounded by thick amounts of blood sat - he felt his breath shake as he noticed there were three knives buried into the boy, so deep that the chipped handles were touching his skin.

"Crap... Havoc," Roy started as he heard his subordinate stride into the room, both their bags as well as the retrieved first aid kit in tow, "he'll bleed out if we don't get him to Briggs..."

"But we don't have a form of fast transport!" the blonde responded all to quickly, like he was panicked at their current situation, "we can't contact anyone, either! There isn't any signal out here!" Roy was mute as he threw open the first aid kit, pulling out the bandages. They had no time to apply disinfectant at this rate, so he chose it better to stop the bleeding quicker and get it sorted when they reach Briggs. With expert hands, he softly took the missing leg's bleeding stump and held the bandage in place a little way up, just above the knee, since the leg seemed to have been severed right where the calf began.

He gagged a little in disgust - as he wrapped the area just above the brutal amputation as to stop the circulation (therefore stopping the bleeding), spurts of blood burst out in objection, splattering Roy's knee and Jean's foot with the gloppy crimson liquid. It was really quite cringe worthy but there was nothing he could do about it other then continue. No doubt, the boy had probably lost a lot of blood already, but that was the problem he was addressing. Thankfully, his attempts to stop the bleeding worked only two minutes of constant wrapping later.

The air was tense as he did the same to the missing arm and it was so silent that when Jean eventually spoke, Roy jumped violently. "Do you think he'll live?" the blonde asked quietly, nervously.

"It's... it's hard to tell," Roy responded in a distant tone, cutting the bandage as he managed to quench the bleeding on the arm's stump too, "he's lost two limbs, Havoc, and he's been stabbed in the stomach three times. I can't do anything about the stomach because it'll risk infection if I take out the knives..." He sat back a little, evaluating his handy work with a critical eye. If he were to fully wrap the missing limbs, they may begin bleeding again and that was why he chose to leave it. It wasn't as if he had been in this situation before but he had been briefed on medical processes before; using alchemy was out of the question, however. He only knew flame alchemy and had no idea of any transumation circles used in medical alchemy, after all.

"... holy crap... the poor kid..." Jean whispered shakily.

"Y-yeah."

With a gentle touch, Roy slid his hands underneath the mysterious boy's back and softly hoisted him up into his arms. It startled Roy, how light he was - it was like he was a feather. After all, he did have missing limbs and little to no fat on his body... the cloak he had been wearing slipped off his shoulders the moment his body left the ground, soaking in the blood that had collected underneath the boy, and Roy motioned to it before looking expectantly over at Havoc. "It's covered in blood," Jean commented blankly, though he still obliged, "if we put that thing on him, wouldn't it do somethin' bad?"

"It's better then leaving the boy to freeze," the Colonel responded irritatingly, "drape it over him and make sure it conceals heat. If he develops frostbite then we'll die for sure." The blonde let out a shaky breath before carefully putting the blood-soaked, already-red cloak over the boy's limp, quivering body, being sure to tuck it in underneath Roy's arms to trap any heat in the dampened cocoon. "Good. T-thanks, Jean. Are you okay?"

"N-not really," he responded distantly, "but I'm better off then the k-kid, so I won't complain."

"Indeed you are." Both men's eyes were on the boy now as Jean hoisted both their bags onto his back, obviously seeing that Roy wasn't going to take his own for his arms were bundled with the weakened form in his tight, secure grasp. "When we get to Briggs, I'll take him straight to the infirmary while you go and find Alex's sister - you need to tell her to contact Hughes for me."

"Yes, sir!"

And with the silence that followed as they jogged out into the depths of the blizzard, it left Roy to wonder just where the child had come from and why he was on death's doorstep.

* * *

 _holy holy holy I'M SO PROUD WITH MYSELF.  
_

 ** _fact:_** _I love horses !_

 _regarding reviews... PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME HOW I DID! I am so so so proud of this myself but I need to know exactly why you liked it and if not, tell me why as well! I really tried! can I get maybe 10 reviews, if not more?_

 _THANK YOU!  
\- **royalvite.**_


	3. chapter 02: scars

_hello friends!  
thank you so much for the reviews. they were amazingly uplifting and I felt like the last chapter was one of the best I've ever written._

 ** _TheNewModrenDemigods:_** _thank you~! and holy crap they do. our fandom is probably the wackiest right underneath the phandom (Dan and Phil's fandom, if you don't know them then I advise you look up the danisnotonfire or amazingphil tag on tumblr. hah.)... it's kind of nerve-wracking. ;3_

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _thank you! I tried to get this update out as soon as possible to quench your thirst for the new chapter. hah._

 ** _DarkFlameFantasty:_** _ah, thank you, but I won't change my writing style just because you ask. all authors are different; some do no description, some focus on the dialogue. I'm an author who likes to write plenty of description. besides, a lot of people love it. sorry if that came off as cold and I apologize if you don't like it. (:_

 ** _Guest:_** _actually, you have a point, but Fuery and Falman are actually as important to this story as Havoc and Roy are. they just come in later. make sense? yeah. thanks for the review!_

 ** _Glass-Lady-Of-The-Opera:_** _ah thank you! I really tried! your reviews give me lifeee_

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _thank you so much! the review is much appreciated._

 ** _lilaclily00:_** _puns are life ;D I thought it was kind of messy and I plan to edit it to make it neater soon... but I'm glad that you think it was interesting and you're excited for the next chapter. thank you!_

 ** _Quiet Leaf:_** _thank you, and yes, I changed the rating the minute I saw your review. :I_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _well obviously it's Ed, hah. and yeah, we're all pretty cruel when it comes to hurting Ed. I would know... hehehehe._

 ** _DamenTheDiamond:_** _*stares back from shadows* it has come, child._

 ** _Guest(2):_** _THANK YOU - that's an amazing idea that I will probably use later._

 _so I spent my entire weekend drawing Ling and Greed in manga style... if you want to see, follow my Instagram account (trashianime). a picture of Greed should be there. my friend is coming round today (2/7/16) and we're both obsessed with anime (I got her into FMA, you should be proud) so we have something to talk about for once...yay!_ _and I BROUGHT MY (minor) OC IN FROM MY OTHER STORY! all I did was make his eyes grey and removed the glasses._

 _ten reviews for the second chapter?! holy CRAP that's an awesome number. I really hope you'll find this chapter just as great at the second one.  
_ _anyway, let's get on with the chapter. enjoy and please review,_

 _- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
_ _written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 _( scars )_

.

The wind seemed to have picked up even further in their brief absence from its fierce, whipping fingers; before it had been strong enough to cause a ruckus and perhaps tip a weak-rooted tree onto its side, but now it had the brutal strength to possibly bring a house to the ground - that was, if there were any houses that weren't made of solid stone up nearby Briggs. An uncomfortable mixture of cold, wet snow and large chunks of hale pelted at their bodies harder than a hurricane and Roy could have sworn he heard rolls of thunder echoing over the heavens, though he saw no flashes of lightning that followed the noise.

When Roy glanced back at Jean to see how he was fairing, it was with a jolt of terror that he realized that the blonde was barely holding up - he was curled in on himself as he waded after his superior, his arms out of the coat sleeves and pressed tightly against his shivering body. The man hadn't even bothered to neaten his hair and the golden mess was carelessly tousled in the icy gale, covering paled skin, a crimson dip-dyed nose tip and distant grey eyes that were bathed in a pool of concern and discomfort. Blood dripped off his shaking palms from where he fell over and had to catch himself with his hands and some streaks were left in his hair and splattered across his face from where the boy's severed limbs had sprayed when they tried to stop it from doing so.

He looked as if he had just left a war-zone...

... he basically _had_ just left a war-zone.

"J-Jean!" he shouted into the wind, reluctantly slowing his stride down so the quivering blonde could catch up, "J-Jean, h-how do y-you f-f-feel?! C-can you fe-feel your-r a-arms y-y-yet?!"

The officer looked up blankly, before a sheen of distraught anxiety glassed over his stormy eyes. "N-not r-r-really... b-but you sh-should be more c-concerned ab-about the k-k-kid-d, B-Boss!" he responded shakily, his gaze now fixating upon the bundle that lay limply in Roy's arms; it was now that the Colonel cleared his head fully and followed his subordinate's line of vision with worry in his eyes.

The kid was still as ductile as he had been before, his head hanging flimsily over Roy's arm - protracted flaxen hair hung with it, smothered in a layer of grease, grime and a startling amount of blood; the sheer amount of the crimson hue made Roy concerned that there was yet another injury battering the short male's quivering body, this time on the back of his head. The Colonel could feel a warm liquid gradually soaking his royal navy military uniform, a darkening patch slowly crawling over the thick material the further he pressed the boy against him in order to give him some remaining traces of warmth.

He furrowed his brow at the boy's stomach, where the three knives protruded from deep inside of his skin in a disorderly manner. The resulting wounds from the delivered blows had stopped bleeding as much, most likely from lack of blood to offer; this concerned him even more. They had to be at least two hours away from Briggs - judging by the amount of blood loss he was suffering from the knives and the two severed limbs, the boy would either be teetering on the brink of death (more so than he already was, of course) or there already. _Most likely_ , he thought in a grimace, _the second of the two choices_.

"H-he's l-lost so mu-much b-blood-d..." Roy stuttered under his breath, ghosting his free hand over the stump where his right arm should have been. It wasn't bleeding heavily anymore thanks to his makeshift bandages but it concerned him all the same; it was with hitching breaths that he saw the closer detail of the severe injury. The bone was visible, smothered in blood and jaggedly cut where it had been sliced through - to say the least, it was like the worst break one could ever suffer from.

"B-Boss!" Jean called out into the whipping winds, "t-the sn-snowst-storm is c-clearing a l-little! L-look-k!" The blonde pulled an arm out from underneath his coat and wildly motioned into the skies. This was when Roy finally took notice of the fact that the snow and winds had eased up a few fractions and he glanced into the heavens to see that there were random spurts of aqua blue breaking through the thick darker billow, like a cat peeking over a wall at its victimized pray. A jerk of comfort rushed through him at the sight of the long-awaited colour, despite his vision still being obscured by the snow that still fell.

However, the climate was still awful for the current situation; while the blizzard appeared to be getting better, the snow that had blanketed the ground was now knee-deep and difficult to wade through, especially with the weights they held (Jean was still holding their bags). Roy was sure that by the time the storm halted completely that it would have grown even deeper and it would have frozen in the cold so as to make the snow more solid - like ice - and hard to push through.

He briefly considered using the lighter and the alchemic transumation circles on his gloves (they would still work, even if they were wet from being in Jean's not-so-waterproof pocket - he could use the circles on them as long as they weren't scratched out or faded, he just couldn't use them to ignite) to melt the snow a few meters in front of them every so often but he soon objected against this once more; if he slips up, he could accidentally damage the boy and that wouldn't turn out very good regarding his current state. Besides, the heat from the flame could possibly wake him up and he didn't want that whatsoever; it was better to carry him while he was half-dead/unconscious rather than drag him along as he screamed and shouted in terror.

Of course, he'd rather carry him while he was asleep and _unharmed_ , but he couldn't do anything about _that_.

"I-is he d-doing okay?" Jean called out; Roy regarded the blonde out of the corner of his eye as he suddenly broke into a half-run into a particularly deep snow mound, crashing through it like a bulldozer knocking down a wall. After a few moments of steadying his walk to allow Jean to catch up, both were setting off side-by-side in new energy; the ease-up of the storm was a striking uplift to their adrenaline levels.

Roy lowered his gaze back onto the boy, worry tinting his onyx eyes. "That's d-debatable..." he trailed off, "... but he's still alive. Which is good." The Colonel never noticed that the sun started to break through the clouds, streaming the snowy landscape with streaks of warmth and comfort, therefore halting his shivering and stutter in its tracks.

"He d-doesn't look great... look how bloodied up the knife wounds on his s-stomach are... and the severed limbs..." the blonde made a strained gagging noise and seemed to look everywhere but the boy, "Roy, I'm gonna be h-honest; I don't think h-he'll make it to Briggs. H-how much blood he's lost... it's t-too much." He anxiously glanced back at the kid, before fixating his gaze onto Roy's concerned expression. When he finally spoke once more, his tone was clearer and the stutter had faded to little more then a collection of violent shivers wracking his body from the cold that still latched onto his pale, blotched skin. "Do you think he'll make it, Boss?"

For a moment, the Colonel had to think about the statistics; and the result he conjured weren't exactly the most uplifting facts. The boy was found in an ice-cold house miles from any kind of proper civilization (come to think of it, why hadn't anyone in those houses realized that there was a dead man and a boy in nearly the same state in their neighbor's living space?), huddled in the same room as the man they had come to eliminate only to find that, oh, the job had been done by whoever the fuck thought it was a good idea to stab the man in the heart with fucking hedge trimmers! The same person must have stabbed this poor teenager in the process and probably decided to slice two of his limbs off while he was at it, too!

"Yea..." he trailed off, his voice hinted with mock optimism, "... he'll be fine... he's not bleeding as much anymore, see."

"I wonder what happened in there, Boss." Jean's eyes were glassed over distantly now as he gazed at the teenager, before he moved forward and ghosted his hands over the bloodied stump where his left leg would have been. The bandages were doing their job and the bleeding was cut off neatly, though it was still sloppy work from how numb Roy's fingers had been and how panicked he had been when wrapping the wound. It was understandable; having a half-dead teenager with two severed limbs and three knives buried into his stomach to the hilt wasn't exactly comforting, in a sense anyone would be able to experience. "I mean, all of the footprints that could have been the killer's would have been washed away by the blood on the floor."

"When we get Hughes and the rest of the investigation team from Central down there, we'll get them to get fingerprints off the knives and the hedge trimmers," Roy said sensibly, pressing the boy closer to his body as another gust of cold wind echoed through the snow-blanketed valleys. "But for now... I'm concerned about the kid's psychological state."

"Whaddya mean?" Jean's head was tilted.

"He's just lost two limbs, been stabbed thrice in the stomach and watched a man die, for God's sake! Do you not think that he won't be mentally damaged from an experience as awful as that, Jean?!" Roy hadn't meant to snap - and clearly, his subordinate saw this and didn't make any reaction that expressed any kind of hurt or offence - and he felt guild curdle him afterwards. "I'm so-" But the blonde smoker wasn't listening. Instead, his gaze was snapped upon the teenager, the stormy hues wide in some form of hidden shock and distress. Planning on questioning the expression, Roy opened his mouth to speak, when a spluttering fit of jagged coughs cut him off rather abruptly.

No one was around.

Neither of them had coughed.

So the only person it could have been was...

A spray of blood painted Roy's royal blue military coat as another violent coughing fit shook the teenager's frail body; both members of the military let out distraught noises, though Roy's was more of a mixture between 'holy _SHIT_ he's _ALIVE_ ' and 'this takes _AGES_ to clean.' The Colonel recovered immediately, however, and Jean seemed to understand the brunt of the situation; the blonde pulled off his coat despite the cold and set it out on the snow, being sure to clear the area away with his thick winter boot so snow didn't fall onto the teenager's body as Roy set him onto the dark material.

He peeled off the bloodied cloak and threw it aside. If the kid lived through this and wanted it back, he'd transmute another one for him.

"Crap, crap, crap," Roy cursed under his breath as he checked the boy's face; his eyes were still slid closed but his lips had tilted open slightly, crimson liquid running from the corners of his mouth and dripping underneath the ragged black shirt. If possible, his face had gone paler and the breaths that had been once shallow and labored were heavier, as if his body was forcing his lungs to intake oxygen. The stomach wounds weren't bleeding but it was obvious there was severe internal damage; from the stress of his coughing fit and being moved violently, blood droplets were spilling out of the stumps of his missing limbs once more.

"Boss," Jean said, his voice short in panic, "t-there are-"

"I don't have time for that!" Roy barked fiercely, his brow furrowed in concentration as he caught the leftover bandages and scissors that Jean tossed to him. With fumbling, shaking fingers, the Colonel began wrapping the bleeding stumps completely, halting the bleeding once more - he failed to notice that he had unconsciously entwined his hand with the teenager's remaining one as a way to give comfort to the boy. "Jean, there's nothing I can do! I don't know any medical alchemy and if we try to get him back to Briggs without doing something then he'll-"

"Listen, God dammit!" Jean suddenly ordered in a reinforced tone, "the Briggs soldiers, over there! They've seen us and obviously seen the blood, too!" The blonde, who had apparently forgotten who he was talking to (not that it mattered in such a dire situation), wildly motioned to a nearby hill; Roy could feel relief sagging his limbs as he watched the scene unfold in the near distance, still grasping the boy's hand warmly.

An ambulance, with thicker, more rugged tires made for the winter terrain and a more compact build than the ones you see in Central, was racing over the snow towards them, its lights flashing despite not having their siren turned on. The moment the driver noticed that their target had noticed them they briefly switched on the siren, which made two loud ' _whyoop whyoop_ ' noises in response to the sudden activation. Jean raised his hand and waved out of the corner of Roy's onyx eyes and the Colonel would have done the same if it weren't for the boy he had to care for until the Briggs reached the battered trio.

Both Roy and Jean observed as the ambulance expertly swerved around them and pulled to a halt, the back doors being violently thrown open and two soldiers other than the ones sat in the front lugged a stretcher out carefully, heading towards Roy and the teenager with a focused expression fixated onto their faces. They placed it onto the snow before carefully turning towards Jean, who had moved beside the injured kid and was hovering over the stomach wounds.

"You two are from the military, right?" one Briggs soldier with ginger hair and a sharp grey gaze breathed as he gently placed a clean oxygen mask around the teenager's limp face, though he didn't put it over his nose; instead he rested it on the bridge of his eyes, most likely to be sure that he didn't choke up blood into it as they moved him. Seeing Roy and Jean's muted nods, he hummed in thought, still purely fixated onto the task ahead. "Where about, then? And however did you end up here?"

"We're from Central," Roy responded, "I am Colonel Roy Mustang and this is my subordinate Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. We were sent here by Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes and Fuhrer Bradley to eliminate a convicted murderer and former State Alchemist Major Caston Devon, who has apparantly fled to Cranebrook Burrow after escaping from Eastern Command's prison." He briefly referred back to the mission statement he had read after speaking to Maes about it for the last piece of information; according to the paper, he had managed to transmute a sword out of the material in the prison walls and used it to kill any guard that halted his escaping process. During that, seven soldiers and one civilian had been slaughtered.

What had he even been thinking?

'Oh, it's a great idea to escape from prison after killing numerous people and do it again!'

Roy nearly _snorted_ at the thought.

 _Snorted_.

"Colonel, huh?" the other Briggs solider, this one with a mahogany-hued ponytail and clear emerald eyes, whistled lowly as he stooped beside the ginger. "That's a new one. Never thought I'd see a Colonel out of his office, to be honest." Both soldiers had their hands securely latched underneath the unconscious teenager, barely even grunting as they gently lifted him onto the stretcher. Another man in a coat, with black hair, naturally tanned skin and a pair of clear blue eyes cupped by a pair of glasses (when did he get here?) got to work within moments; throwing a heat-trapping sheet and a few blankets over the boy's frail body, securing the straps over him and pressing the oxygen mask into place were processes performed quickly yet with an expert preciseness.

Before either Jean or Roy could object, the ginger Briggs soldier placed the stretcher's handles into his black-haired colleague's hands before turning towards the two. "My name's Jordan, by the way. My pony-tailed friend is Kai and the nerdy one is Charlie. Do you want a ride back to Briggs, sirs?"

.

The front seat of the ambulance was decidedly warmer than the outside world; the fraying grey seats were worn down into a tattered yet comfortable state and the heat was concealed with thickened windows and a padded interior. In the three front seats were Jean - who was basically half-asleep - Roy and Jordan, who had apparantly thrown Charlie into the back with Kai so he could speak to the two soldiers from Central. "So how'd it happen, Colonel Mustang?"

Roy and Jean, both startled by the sudden voice that shattered the silence, looked over at Jordan. The ginger wrinkled his nose at their curious gazes, the reflection of the valleys they had yet to drive through reflecting in his stormy grey eyes. Now that Roy was looking closer, he could see freckles smattering across peachy skin, a charmingly lopsided grin and an intelligent sheen in his vision. An elbow buried deep into the Colonel's ribcage and he sent Havoc - who had bluntly decided the only way to get his superior to actually respond was to elbow him as hard as he could - a sour glare before opening his mouth.

"We... don't know," he responded gingerly.

The Briggs soldier looked very confused until Jean chose it a good time to elaborate on Roy's point. "What he means is that the poor kid was like that when we arrived. We were told to get to Cranebrook Burrow to eliminate Cato, who had apparantly been hiding out there, and I was about to freeze my ass into pneumonia so we decided to recollect ourselves in a nearby house. The house we happened to knock on had crying from the inside - presumably, from the kid - so Roy kicked the door down and..." he trailed off, a shudder shaking his coat-entrapped body as he glanced over at the Colonel for assistance.

Taking the hint, Roy reinforced his tone and continued for his blonde subordinate. "The entire floor was _covered_ in blood - I don't think I saw a part that wasn't bloody, except for the ceiling maybe. I thought that someone was severely injured and we were looking around when Jean tripped over something..." he paused, either for effect or to recover himself, "... he tripped over Cato's dead body, basically. There were hedge trimmers sunken to the hilt in his chest..." The Colonel sorted through his memories, trying to conjure more information. "When I checked, his body was still warm despite being in the cold - it hadn't been long since he'd been killed, so I immediately thought to search around for the person who had done it."

"That's... that's a lot to take in," Jordan commented, blinking blearily as he drove, "are you sure it was Cato you found, Colonel? Not to be rude, but dead people often get their identities mixed up around here..."

 _For a while, Roy stood, evaluating the body with onyx eyes glistening with faint tears of both disgust and nerves. It was definitely Cato; while his skin was paled from death, it was obviously once tanned near to the shade of an Ishbalan's dark colour. Long, dark hair was splayed around his limp head in a tousled arc and his eyes were the same hue as Roy's - if not, blacker - though they were open and dull._

"Pretty sure," he responded curtly.

"How did you find the kiddo, then?" Jordan asked; he seemed fully interesting into the conversation though he was forced to keep his eyes ahead, since the terrain was so slippery with the fresh snow and the ambulance's hind end had to be kept steady so they didn't jolt the passengers around as they drove down the hills and through the mud-slick valleys. Briefly, Roy could hear one of the Briggs soldiers cursing and the loud slam of a body against the wall as Jordan pressed the break on rather abruptly to keep the ambulance from tipping when they slid down a faint slope on the wheels.

 _But before he could stand up to search, a small movement from a shadowed corner of the room caught his attention and he whipped around, holding his gun up to his shoulder and narrowing his eyes. "Who's there?" he demanded sharply, searching the darkness. "I know you're there-" But he cut off, as Jean (who had apparantly come back into the room now) pulled his lighter out of his pocket and used it to light a candle he held in his hands. The sudden source of light lit up the corner and both men's breath caught in their throats as soon as they realized just what had moved. "H-holy mother of... Havoc, get the med kit. Now!" he ordered; the blonde obliged silently and placed the candle beside Roy, barely giving the corner a second glance before running outside, where they had discarded their bags._

"I remember seeing movement in the corner of the room... then Havoc grabbed my lighter and used it to light a candle so we had light. That's when I saw him." Roy cracked his knuckles and Jean made a noise that somehow expressed how proud of himself he was for having the idea of using the lighter to ignite something other than a cigarette.

"You had a lighter?" Jordan seemed shocked at this. "You don't seem like a smoker, Colonel..."

"I'm not," he replied monotonously, "I'm a State-Alchemist who uses flame alchemy. My ignition gloves were wet from the snow so I held a lighter with me that I could use if need be." Almost pridefully, Roy took out his (still damp) ignition gloves from Jean's pocket and laid them on his knees, pretending to let them dry when in reality he was just showing off.

"A dog of the military, huh? How do gloves set off a spark, exactly?"

"It's the material. They create a spark when a lot of friction is built up; if I snap, which is what I usually do, the friction with ignite the glove. I use the transmutation circles on the glove to bend the air around the flame to make it move wherever I like. Simple, really," he boasted - Jean inaudibly rolled his eyes before sliding them shut and leaning his entire weight onto the side of the ambulance, resting his head against the window in his exhaustion.

"That sounds complicated... anyway, we're off track. What was the kid's original state before you found him?"

 _There were bruises littered all over the boy's face, mostly around his temples and closed eyes, that ranged from a dark, unhealthy crimson to a shade of purple that could be classified as positively unnatural - and there were minor slices in the startlingly pallor skin on his cheeks and above his eyebrows. Scars, clear and white, lined his sharp jaw, looking like a knife had cut into his limp face with accurate movement. As if it had been intentional._

"Bruises all over his face... scars on his jaw... awfully pale... he isn't much different... facial wise," Jean said absent-mindedly, his eyes still closed contently.

"Aaaand his bodily state?"

 _Roy's heart stopped beating as he realized that there were only two limbs on the boy's body, both of which hung limp on the blood-soaked floor. There was a lot of blood pouring out of jaggedly-sliced stumps where his right arm and left leg should be like an activated tap and it frightened Roy that there was little he could do until they got back to a Command center, the nearest being Briggs. Now that he looked closer, Roy noticed with a pale face that his remaining hand was draped over his stomach, where a rip in his shirt surrounded by thick amounts of blood sat - he felt his breath shake as he noticed there were three knives buried into the boy, so deep that the chipped handles were touching his skin._

"The missing limbs, the three knife wounds... oh, and a head wound, too," Roy responded shakily, "we d-didn't want to risk infection so I didn't touch the knife wounds, though the cold seemed to have worked in his favor because they stopped bleeding after a while. I didn't fully wrap the missing limbs until he had a coughing fit and choked up blood-"

"Woah, woah, woah, he started throwing up blood?" Jordan interrupted, his eyes suddenly very wide in panic. "That isn't good. Not good at all. That generally means you're dying when you've been stabbed three times... God, I do hope that the other two are doing their job in there. It's been awfully quiet, which is weird because Charlie is usually very loud when it comes to treating someone." He visibly tensed and pressed the acceleration harder, pushing the ambulance as fast as it could go through the deep layer of snow (which was surprisingly quick).

"Dying...?"

Both Jean and Roy paled.

.

"Coming through, coming through!"

Jean and Roy had to run as fast as they could drag their exhausted bodies; both were drained from the stress of pacing it through the snow twice and experiencing the distraught panic of literally having one - possibly two, had their action not been so fast when it came to recovering themselves upon the sight of it - death at their hands. All Roy wanted to do was go home, collapse into his bed and sleep for three years but he knew that it wasn't the time to be complaining whatsoever; besides, they were at Briggs and they should imprint a sensible reputation instead of the 'oh look, it's the Weiner Whiner' (Falman and Breda called him that for a year at one period of time) kind of one.

The wheels of the stretcher against the rough ground made a constant whirring noise and kept jerking as they hit a soldier's shoe or a jagged patch in the floor that really should be tiled instead of concrete. "Where are we going?!" Jean called to his superior through his tired, jerky breaths, sprinting rapidly after the Briggs soldiers that were pushing the stretcher along. They were startingly fast as they moved, even though they were pushing a weight that was most likely not the lightest thing in the world even though the teenager laid across it weight the same mass as a feather.

"I don't know-"

"Colonel Mustang, Second Lieutenant Havoc, over here!" a familiar voice called harshly; both named Central soldiers immediately skidded to a stop (well, Havoc did; Roy just put a foot out sharply in front of him and halted himself that way. Jean just slid around a bit) at the sound of their formal titles being called. Roy wasn't surprised to find that it was Jordan, stood in the doorway of a stuffy office with a phone in his hand.

"Oh, hi Jordan," Jean chipped brightly.

"Hello," he responded absently, before turning to Roy and pressing the phone into Jean's hands, "here, use this to contact Central. I already called for you... they said they're putting you onto whoever picks up in your office." Nodding his thanks and smiling at the Briggs soldier ruggedly, Roy pressed the phone to his ear...

... only to pull it away again as a very, very, _very_ loud voice burst through the speaker. " _HELLO?!_ "

"Jesus Christ," Roy half-heartedly laughed into the line, "it's Roy, calling from Briggs?"

" _Colonel? Oh, damn, sorry for shouting in your ear. It's Feury, sir; why do you call?_ " The Sargent's youthful voice was distant now, like he was holding the phone away from his head as he did something else. Roy quietly thought that he was either trying to complete paperwork, putting it out so everyone could hear or just being a dickwad (he secretly suspected the last choice).

"I need you to put me on to Hughes. It's urgent," Roy ordered into the phone, making sure his tone was cold as usual; Jordan seemed taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, though when Jean mumbled something into his ear they exchanged a knowing look before the Briggs soldier turned to do something in the office they were stood beside. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Jean, Roy listened closely.

" _Ah, no can do, sir - Hughes left for sick leave this morning. He threw up and Major Armstrong convinced him to go home even after he refused, saying he was expecting you to call with news. It seemed pretty terrible; he was all pale and shivering and according to Armstrong, he never even talked about his family once. Scary, isn't it? Anyway, I'm going to give you to Riza now. She's giving me the death glare... yeesh..._ "

"Roy felt concern spike him. He'd have to visit Hughes if he isn't better by the time they manage to return from Briggs.

There was some fumbling and a quiet voice saying 'sorry, sorry!' before Hawkeye's familiarly monotone voice echoed over the line. " _Hello, Sir. I understand you needed me?_ "

"Yes, hi there; I need you to arrange for Central's investigation team to get down to Briggs for me. There was an incident with where we were assigned to go and I think this is important to avoid a mass murdering spree up here..."

" _... I can do that for you. Are you or Havoc hurt?_ "

Roy glanced over at the blonde with half-lidded eyes, watching him slide into a chair sat against the wall and crack his eyes closed out of exhaustion. "No, no; just cold and exhausted out of our minds. We had to trek through the snow during a blizzard twice... it was painful as _FUCK_."

" _Make sure you two warm up and get some rest before you come back down. We'll be sending the full investigation team down there on Friday and Feury, Breda and I are coming as well, if that's alright with you. Is there anything else you'll be needing, Sir?_ "

"Bring another pair of ignition gloves and make sure someone supervises Vato while he's alone. That is all. Thank you, Hawkeye." The line promptly went dead and Roy placed it on the ground (much to Jordan's annoyance) before sliding into the seat beside Havoc. His muscles groaned in protest as he sat forward in the chair; gravity pulled his eyelids closed and his head fell comfortably to the side along with it. Ah, it felt so good to rest his vision.

He briefly registered hearing someones shout " _he's flat-lining!_ " before sleep pulled him under a refreshing veil of darkness and everything went silent around him.

* * *

 _I have an awful feeling that this chapter isn't as great as the last one. if not, I will eventually improve it, but I'm pretty happy with this all the same~! sorry if it got boring in places and I needed to speed the chapter up smoothly, so I added the Briggs soldiers seeing them and bringing out an ambulance. jumping scenes at that time made it too... bumpy._

 ** _fact:_** _I have never watched Dragon Ball Z, Naruto or One Punch Man. *escapes mob* they've never interested me, for some reason. I have a feeling DBZ is just Mortal Kombat in anime style, Naruto just looks eh and wouldn't the One Punch Man fight scenes be awfully boring if he beats everything in one punch...?_

 _regarding reviews... please offer me one! they let me know why you liked the chapter and what you liked about it~! I really love reviews that are more than a sentence saying "good" or "please continue". was my grammar good? boring? interesting? TELL ME!_

 _thank you!  
\- **royalvite**._

 ** _PLEASE READ, PLOT BUNNY ALERT:_** _so I had an idea for an FMA fanfiction. basically, Roy goes to an asylum and he meets Edward there, who is the most dangerous inmate in the place and is probably never going to get out of there purely because he has that many mental issues. Roy begins to realize that, after getting to know him, he isn't at all that bad if you listen to him and talk to him as if he's human instead of an asylum patient.  
that's what I got so far. thoughts? (:_


	4. chapter 03: darkness

_hey again!  
your reviews all seriously give me life. they're so beautiful and make me feel amazing. I'm ill and bed-ridden all day so I have time to write! yay!  
_

 _ **Quiet Leaf:** *freaks out with you* thanks for the review, fam; they are my lifesource lmao._

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _your reviews are always so damn nice. so glad you love this story, thank you for the support~!_

 ** _DamenTheDiamond:_** _thanks so much! much appreciated._

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _he's the main character (one of them)! of course he won't die. XD thanks!_

 ** _DarkFlameFantasy:_** _sorry about the misunderstanding and thank you very much!_

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _yeah I hoped someone would understand why I did that! thank you!_

 ** _Kas3y:_** _oh wow, thank you so much! honestly, I'm so happy that you like it. your review was super nice and it made me smile~._

 _in this chapter, you get a section where it is Jordan's point of view, though only because a) it makes sense and b) Roy and Jean are asleep. if you're concerned at all about Jordan becoming a main character then don't worry - he may be very important to the current story arc and a few others, he definitely won't be more as someone who is a little more than a minor character. I wasn't sure what rank he should be so I made him a Lieutenant Colonel...?_

 _please note that the medical knowledge was not researched and I apologize if any of it is inaccurate or completely incorrect. also I have no idea whether they had all of that back in where FMA was set so please don't bother pointing out that the equipment never existed, I know and it won't be changed. (:_

 _to those wondering where my hospital AU and the oneshot series went, my website had a malfunction so I had to delete them. they should be back by next week, give or take..._

 _enjoy and please review!  
\- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 _( darkness )_

.

"He's flat-lining!"

"Where the Hell is Jordan at? He's the only one here who knows how to use these things!"

"Someone get Jordan!"

"Jordan! Jordan!"

 ** _Darkness_.**

"Where _is_ he, for fuck's sake?!"

 ** _Darkness was everywhere; a flat universe, shadowed with a veil of blackness._**

"What is it? Why did you want me?"

"He's flat-lining, Boss!"

 ** _It was suffocating, like a wall closing in on him._**

"Boss, I got the defibrillators untangled!"

"Give 'em here, then!"

"Yes, sir!"

 ** _Why was it so dark here?_**

"Here, sir!"

"Get 'em ready, get 'em ready..."

 ** _It won't go away!_**

"They're ready, sir!"

"And..."

 ** _Why can't I feel anything?_**

"CLEAR!"

And suddenly, the darkness was lifted, and everything went white...

.

"Jordan! Jordan!"

Rapid footsteps shot down the hall, hammering against the rough concrete ground, like an urgent fist tapping against a door. Immediately, Jordan was out of his padded office chair and vaulting nimbly over his desk, cluttering the important and once-orderly paperwork stacks with his weight and sending discarded pencils scattering across the floor. It took him little time to recover and within moments Briggs' resident ginger-haired Lieutenant Colonel was rushing into the hall, towards the one room where he knew he was currently needed in. A panicked and desperate call like that had to have a cause and he was afraid he knew exactly why his medical unit was yelling his name without using the word 'sir' afterwards - they only did that when they truly needed his assistance.

Had their newest patient woken up or had he finally given in to the severe wounds?

That question was answered, however, when he neared the door; a distinct note, long and piercing, broke through his eardrums and zipped through his insides like a flash of lightning, settling into the pit of his stomach as a heavy ball of concern. He briefly heard someone holler, "where _is_ he, for fucks sake?!" as he swung the door open, making sure to seem collected as he jogged into the ward. The only bed in the entire room had at least seven machines scattered around it, wires crisscrossing the floor under his feet and wheeled carts discarded around the empty space left in the panic of their situation.

There were the entire Vegas Unit, all rushing around as they tried to do something useful; Charlie was attempting to quickly untangle the defibrillator wires, Jake was getting IV cables from a cupboard, Kai was stooped beside the patient yelling at Charlie to 'hurry the hell up' and Takashi was trying his very hardest to make sure the endotracheal tubes weren't playing up at all, which was a problem that could affect the boy's ability to breath.

Touched at his unit's dedication and slightly pissed off at their cluelessness, Jordan finally made his presence known. "What is it? Why did you want me?" he asked, despite knowing the answer. He glanced at the heart monitor and the flat line racing across the screen confirmed his conclusion; the kid's heart had stopped beating altogether. Probably due to lack of blood, judging by the amount he had lost already. "He's flat-lining, Boss!" Takashi responded in a tizzy, hovering uselessly over the teenager's unmoving chest. He didn't know what to do, Jordan could see it.

"Boss, I got the defibrillators untangled!" Charlie called from the wall, where he was shoving the cable to the pieces of medical technology into the plug sockets with an urgent fumble in his touch. The young medical assistant cursed as a bare part of the cable made contact with his skin and sent a short electrical shock into his finger.

"Give 'em here, then!"

"Yes, sir!"

The handles were cold to touch - however, the flat side of the defibrillators were practically pulsing with heated electrical energy. He slid a brief glance to the setting to be sure that they were on the correct level and internally sighed in relief as he noticed they were; three-hundred joules of electricity was about to be shot into the teenager's weakened system the moment that familiar word was called out. "Get 'em ready, get'em ready..." he rubbed the flat sides together roughly, generating the energy the electricity would use to transfer through the boy's chest and into his heart, all the while being sure he didn't accidentally knock the knives sunken into his stomach all the way to the hilt with his hands as they worked maniacally. The kid couldn't give up, not after surviving through the impossible for so long.

"Aaaand..."

A beat of tense silence.

"CLEAR!"

Jordan pressed the defibrillators firmly against the teenager's chest and the boy's frail body jolted in reaction to the energy, convulsing for little more than a few seconds before falling still again. For the length of a heartbeat, Jordan thought that it hadn't worked, that his heart hadn't restarted like it was supposed to, before an uneven sequence of shrill beeps cut him off and suddenly he was lifted out of the water and into the real world. The heart monitor's screen once again confirmed his hopes; the vibrant green line was, instead of being flat and motionless, was now spiking at a slightly awkward pace. It had worked, thank God.

Immediately, Jordan began to order his medical unit around. "Takashi, pimp him up with a pulse oximeter - put one of the smaller ones in his earlobe; having it in his hand might scare him when he wakes up. Charlie, hook him up with a CVC, in his internal jugular vein. Kai, give him a ventilator. Judging by his condition and blood loss, he'd need one pretty soon. Jake, I need a needle..."

Everyone he addressed seemed to understand their requests instantly; Takashi began burrowing into a draw, pulling out a small piece of technology that had a long string of wire attached to, which would plug into a monitor they would stand by his hospital bed. It never took very long to get it set up but Takashi appeared to be behaving extra carefully around him, trying not to bother the broken teenager or accidentally touch the now fully bandaged stumps where his missing limbs would have been had they not been severed off. As the finished, the monitor it was plugged into suddenly burst into life and began trying to read the pulse oximeter's results almost straight away.

Charlie was determinedly doing his job, too, and Jordan was impressed at how quick and smoothly he worked. It wasn't long at all before he had the needle into an area on the teenager's jugular and was stitching it securely into position. Usually, this process would be painful, had they not sedated the boy heavily while in the ambulance so that he didn't wake up at all during this. "Well done, Charlie," Jordan said quietly to his subordinate, "perfect work."

"I got him an ETT..." Kai mumbled as he pressed past Jordan, wheeling the machine to a position in the gap between the head of the bed and the wall, "... because it seems like that he'll have trouble breathing for quite a few days... " The man's mahogany ponytail whirled around a little as he stooped beside the teenager; Jordan observed half-heartedly, more focused on giving Jake a couple of _what's taking you so long?_ glares rather than watching Kai work. Besides, he already knew what he was doing - Kai was admittedly amazing at his job, as was the rest of the Vegas medical unit. They were the best team at Briggs.. though, everyone knew that _Central_ Command' medical team were the best in Amestris.

"Boss," Charlie muttered quietly, gazing at Kai as he gently began sliding the ETT into the teenager's throat through his mouth, "shouldn't we take the knives out of his stomach now? They'd cause a problem in the near future and if- uh, _when_ he wakes up, would they not?" The black-haired medical assistant adjusted his glasses, icy blue eyes now focused upon Jordan with a concerned gleam in his eyes. Sighing deeply, Jordan took the needle from Jake (who _finally_ decided to find it) and waved it in his subordinate's furrowed face.

"Charlie, we can't take them out until we have his blood type and enough of the compatible blood type to begin the transfusion straight away. Taking them out would make him bleed severely and he'll die if we can't transfer the blood in time. For now, the wounds have been temporarily frozen shut when Colonel Mustang and his blonde friend were trekking through the blizzard's heaviest peak with him, so he should be stable until we get the results back." The ginger spoke as if it were obvious - which it was, to be honest - and Charlie picked up on this and let out a noise of realization.

"Do you want me to do it, sir?" Takashi asked from behind the cardiac monitor, running a hand through his tousled blonde bangs in a worried manner as his other adjusted the settings on the technology. Seeing Jordan's reluctant expression, he continued with an anxious, "... or I can take it down to the medical lab and analyse it after _you_ do it. I don't mind." Jordan grinned (or half-grimaced) as he gently took hold of the teenager's remaining arm and rubbed the crook of his elbow, making the vein known. It was clearer underneath his frail, pale skin, so startingly so that he could feel his eyes widen. The child's skin was so thin and pallor... it made it seem like he was a corpse, despite the heart monitor telling him otherwise.

"The second one, if you please; you gotta be fast about it, because these wounds'll start getting serious if we don't hurry... oh, and make sure you grab Roy and Jean on the way," he mumbled, pressing down on the needle and pulling out a small amount of the teenager's blood into the tube. With careful precision he took the needle out of the elbow and placed a plaster over the area where it had been sunken into the skin. "Take this and run it down to the lab, Takashi. _Now_!"

As he left, Charlie, Jake and Kai turned quiet and went about their business heartily - Kai took over Takashi's job in adjusting the heart monitor's settings, Charlie was making sure that the CVC was working up to par and Jake was unplugging and putting away the defibrillators back where they had been before. Jordan felt proud of his medical unit and how focused they had been - he mentally noted that he'd have to request Briggs' resident Colonel (not Roy, the one that actually lived in the North and not at Central/Eastern Headquarters) to give them all a payment rise. They deserved it, after all.

For now, while they could do nothing else apart from hope they had the right amount of blood that was compatible with the unconscious teenager's type, Jordan gazed at his limp face. The kid's skin was frail and colourless, with the dark smudges underneath his closed eyes appearing just as contrasted as the scars that lined his sharp, boyish jawline. Kai (who had a ponytail of his own) had put the teenager's long golden hair, which was now reasonably clean with only the slightest amount of blood lining the blonde bangs, into a ponytail and let that cascade over his thin, bony shoulder.

They hadn't taken his clothes off yet, nor had they taken the knives out of his stomach. They needed to wait until he was completely stable and slightly more aware to do the clothes and they needed a blood transfusion done directly after the knives, something they couldn't do until Jake came back with the results from the lab. They had him hooked with an IV to avoid further dehydration and they were unable to give him nutrition until he was aware, because there was a strong possibility that his body would reject it from being malnourished for so long (ironic, huh?).

It was painful, seeing a teenager so broken; the missing limbs possibly meant automail surgery, which was an extremely dangerous process to go through. Even grown men had been known to scream bloody murder as they got it, so how would a kid who couldn't be more then fourteen fair against the trauma? He seemed like he'd be short anyways, but seeing him with an arm and a leg missing made him seem so fucking _frail_...

It worried him...

Usually, he was never so concerned about a patient.

Maybe this one was...

... _different_.

.

"Boss? Boss, wake up."

"Five more minutes, mum..."

"... what the fu- _Colonel_ , wake up already!"

A pair of groggy onyx optics cracked open, blinking blearily against the light. In the halo of yellowed illuminations stood a figure, his face shadowed by the rays of burnish - if it wasn't for the fact that the impossibly tousled blonde hair was awfully familiar to him, he would have been too sleepy to even bother squinting to see who was standing before him like some sort of angel from the heavens. Summoning enough energy to shift upright in his seat, Roy Mustang ran a hand lazily through his messy raven bangs and let out a relenting, unimpressed groan at being awaken while still being so exhausted. He really, really, _really_ did not feel like behaving like a Colonel today...

Despite his reluctance to be an adult, Roy felt it unnecessary to blandly ignore his subordinate like this and he let out a long, regretting sigh as he conjured a response. "What is it, Havoc?" he grumbled tiredly, unable to keep the slight venom out of his tone. Jean Havoc seemed to understand that he was overworked, freezing to the bone and clearly exhausted and made no reaction to suggest hurt or offense.

"I think the kid might have actually... died, Colonel..." He sunk half-heartedly into the chair beside his superior, his stormy grey gaze kept focused on either the toes of his boots or the cold, rough surface of the concrete corridor floors. The thick winter coat he had been gifted with was draped loosely over his shoulders with his arms out of the sleeves, his hands settled in his lab as he rubbed them against each other impatiently; it looked as if it would fall off if he moved his back away from the seat. His face wasn't as pallor as it had been but Roy found it concerning how colourless he appeared. It could have been the cold, or another PTSD attack...

"What makes you say that?" he inquired wearily. He cracked his knuckles, a popping noise resounding from the motion.

It was most likely something he had heard from the teenager's nearby infirmary ward. While Roy was an extremely heavy sleeper (Riza would know, from the painful experience of waking him up that usually ended in her having to shoot near his head to alert him) and was barely perceptive of the outside world in his slumber, Jean tended to be more aware of everything going on as he dozed and would wake up to the smallest of notions. For instance, Falman had once mentioned that it had only taken a faint creak in the floorboards back at Central Headquarters to make him look up from his nap on the desk.

"I woke up to someone in the infirmary shouting 'CLEAR!' and... doesn't that mean that they're using a defibrillator to revive someone?"

Jean's voice didn't shake but it was clear that he was torn in a blend of concern and genuine fear, judging by his facial expression. "He'll be alright. The medical team may not be as advanced as the one in Central, but they know what they're doing, Havoc," he reassured the blonde softly, being sure to keep any negative emotion out of his tone as to offer comfort to his shaken subordinate, "but, for now, are you holding up alright?" Knowing all too well that it was an impossibly stupid question to ask in the current situation, he sincerely hoped that it would be healing for Jean's physiological state.

The blonde hesitantly paused and Roy didn't push him for a response. "It's just... how do deal with it? The blood and the bodies... it's just all too much for me... I don't even know if I c-can _look_ at..." he trailed off mutely, his stormy grey eyes widened and glassed over with a distant sheen; he had his foot resting on the chair and his chin laid against his knee, like he had no energy to hold his head upright on its own. Roy felt concern spike his heart as he gazed worriedly at his subordinate. _Just as I thought_ , he said to himself, _it's his first time seeing a body without a sheet on it or without the blood cleaned up, isn't it?_

This should have been expected as soon as they saw the body. While Roy was experienced in the brutal field of death, blood and absolute cold-hearted terror and barely even reacted over seeing the dead anymore (he always gagged at the scent, though - he had never come across a corpse that didn't stink of rotten eggs and molded horse manure), Jean was reasonably new to the military and the things you'll see as someone who works closely underneath the Lord of the Army (A.K.A, Fuhrer Bradley). Obviously, Jean had seen his fair share of blood but he'd never seen a dead body without a sheet over it before this and it was bound to be a denting shock to the system.

Though, Roy was impressed with how Jean dealt with the PTSD that generally came with being a soldier. It wasn't severe, sure, but he had known soldiers who used to hurt themselves or other people during the condition's frequent attacks. According to Feury, the blonde would just douse himself in a nap and feel a little better by the time he awoke; personally, Roy would love to have the ability to do that, but he could never get over it without a bottle of whiskey by his side or two. There are two kinds of people, he supposed.

"I... don't," he admitted quietly, "when I fought in the Ishvalan Civil War, I went through this exact process, Havoc. I think I sobbed for days after I started seeing the bodies piling up... but, I never dealt with it how I should have. Hawkeye and I both eventually got so used it that... that it just doesn't really affect us anymore." He could feel himself tightening up at the very memory of those few years where had had been ordered to kill thousands of innocent people, but he refused to let it show outwardly. Getting worked up about it wouldn't help Jean recover from this bout whatsoever.

"I look pathetic right now, don't I?" Jean half-heartedly forced out a barking laugh, resting his forehead in the palms of his hands and his elbows against his knees. The man's blonde hair fell out of place, damp from being soaked by the snow and tousled from the hand that must have dragged through it a million times by now. "Man, I bet they'll all mock me back at Central if they find out about this..."

Roy could feel a sense of deja-vu coming along now. Countless times before, he had comforted a soldier while they broke down, telling them that everything would turn out for the better and that it was good they were getting it out of their system. They all acted the same; saying they probably looked pathetic, saying that they'll be mocked if their family saw them during a PTSD attack. It wasn't different to usual but Roy felt his heart burn even more as Jean - one of the closest and best out of the few friends he had, apart from Hughes and Hawkeye of course - went through this himself.

"Whoever mocks a soldier for their PTSD must have one _hell_ of a micro-penis."

At the Colonel's comical (yet honest) remark, Jean laughed once more, before he quieted almost immediately. "PTSD? Oh yeah... I have that, don't I? ... man, I need a smoke..." he mumbled, pulling one hand away from his forehead and taking out a cigarette packet from his pocket. Instead of scolding him about how bad smoking was for you, Roy chose against the edge of objection and pressed his lighter into Jean's hand. The blonde seemed surprised and for a moment, Roy thought he was going to pass out from gratefulness, if possible. "You... you won't gripe at me this time?" he said in absolute disbelief.

"You deserve it this time. Just... don't do it outside. You'll freeze," Roy responded, offering his grinning subordinate a warm smile instead of the usually-wickedly charming one he owned. Opening his mouth, Jean tried to respond (presumably with a thank you) before another voice cut him off.

"Colonel Mustang, Second Lieutenant Havoc?" he called to them; he had messy brunette hair styled in a way that seemed to defy gravity, with his mahogany-hued eyes that seemed to radiate intelligence and humor. It was almost like another version of Jordan, dipped into melted chocolate. In his hands were two sheets of paper that looked awfully important and Roy briefly registered the words 'blood type' on it before he moved his arm out of view and turned towards the soldiers from Central.

"That's us," Jean replied, sliding the cigar back into his pocket and throwing the lighter over his shoulder, effectively hitting Roy on the nose ("ow, shit!").

"Ah, good." The young man strode forward with a hand stuck out in front of him. "My name is Takashi Lester **[A/N: sneaky Dan and Phil reference, aha.]** and I work in Lieutenant Colonel Vega's medical unit."

"Vegas?" Roy questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Jordan. Jordan Vegas. I work as a medical assistant and surgeon in his medical unit," Takashi responded, as if it were painfully obvious. "Now, if you'd like to follow me, I'll take you to the kiddo's infirmary ward."

.

Roy had expected the door's rusted hinges to squeak like they did at both Central and Eastern command, but they didn't, and he found himself startled that he had visited the infirmary so much back home that he actually thought all doors into medical wards made the same noise. Jean and Roy wobbled in right after Takashi - who walked really quickly, apparantly - they were met with the distinct smell that made Roy shudder and Jean gag loudly and hold his nose - disinfectant. It was impossibly strong and the Colonel briefly wondered whether someone had spilled an entire tub of the stuff on the floor.

The walls were coloured a comfortable beige instead of the usual sterile white, though the homely hue was barely visible behind the cupboards and posters that littered the outside perimeter of the room. On the side closest to the door was what at first seemed to be half a kitchenette, but Roy knew all too well that the fridge would hold medicines and other supplies that would be kept chilled and the sink would be used to wash a doctor's hands, with the cupboards underneath the counter holding other medical objects and liquids. But the thing that caught his attention the most was the bed at the back of the room and the figure lying under the mass of cleansed white sheets and a thick winter blanket most likely there to offer warmth.

There were many machines surrounding the bed, the only one he recognized being a heart monitor, and it startled Roy to know that all of that was required just to keep the teenager _alive_...

Everyone in the room seemed to look up upon their entry; the black-haired man he recognized briefly as Charlie was leaning over the kid's frail body, Kai's mahogany ponytail was shimmering in the yellow light as he adjusted something on the back of one random machine and someone with dark honey skin, shoulder-length brown hair and a chinstrap beard that he didn't recognize was wrapping a wire around what seemed to be a defibrillator. Charlie quietly mumbled something to Kai, who snorted in response and exchanged a knowing glance with one he was unfamiliar with.

"Hello Colonel, hello Second Lieutenant," Jordan, who he hadn't noticed was sat on the counter of the 'kitchenette' thing, greeted absently, before stepping onto the floor with an agile step in his feet. "You both still look exhausted... ah, well, I'll let you guys stay in one of the guest rooms and sleep there when we're finished. Can I address you both as your first names or...?"

"We don't mind," Roy responded for them both, figuring Jean wouldn't really give two shits (he never did).

"Good, good." Jordan visibly hesitated. "For a few minutes, we lost him - but he wasn't far gone, because we managed to get him back with only three hundred joules. We managed to stabilize him and he's alright for now, but we haven't managed to completely secure his health. The knives in his stomach are so far in, he'd need immediate blood transfusion and possibly surgery if they've pierce anything important when we remove them - I think they have, actually - but since we weren't sure of his blood type, we couldn't do it straight off. Luckily, Takashi happens to be behind you with the results of the lab testing..."

"Ah, yeah," Takashi carefully pushed through Roy and Jean, pressing the papers into Jordan's hands, "luckily, the forensics unit weren't particularly busy and they managed to get their best guy on it. Henry Hartley or somethin' like that - but, there is some bad news to come with the reasonably good stuff. We've run out of the compatible blood type, sir." As if anxious to hear the response, Takashi impatiently played with his hands.

"This says type AB-... interesting. Do we not have _any_ AB-, B- or A-? Not even O-? At _all?_ " he demanded, running a hand restlessly through his ginger hair.

"We only have quarter of a liter of B-. I checked in the freezer, in all the labs... everywhere. And none of the donors offered had anything compatible, sir. I would donate but I'm an O+," Takashi said intelligently.

"Shame..." Jordan looked completely and utterly miffed, before sending the teenager a worried glance. "None of you happen to have AB-,B-, A- or O- blood, do you? Roy? Jean?" The soldier looked between the two now, his expression less humorous like it had been before and more seriously set, like he has attending a good friend's funeral. It was startling to see a usually smiling face frowning in such a manner. Exchanging a knowing look with Jean, Roy tenderly stepped forward and rolled his sleeve up above his elbow, exposing the soft, pallor skin and its popping blue veins underneath.

"I happen to have a B- blood type," he commented determinedly, "why don't you use some of my blood? He clearly needs it more then I do." The Colonel waved his arm around as if tempting a wolf with a steak, making Charlie snort and the one he didn't know (he thought his name tag said Jake but he couldn't be sure of it completely) raise an eyebrow as they continued to work as if nothing was happening - Kai seemed to have finished his job and sank into a discarded chair against the tanned walls, looking absolutely exhausted and ready to sleep anywhere.

"Oh God, don't say that and offer your arm out at the same time. If Jordan was paying attention, he would have literally pounced on your arm and stabbed it with a needle to take some blood before you could say the words 'ginger weirdo'," Charlie laughed from the other side of the room; in response, Roy lowered his arm and slid the coat's sleeve back over the crook of his elbow, cocking an eyebrow in silent question. "There is a certain procedure you must've followed and if you haven't and we take blood from you, it could potentially be dangerous to you. And since we're the best medical team here and we're swallowed by this little dude, you'll have the crappy Kurda medical unit taking care of you."

"Whatever makes them crappy?" Jake asked tiredly.

"One word: cockroaches."

Kai made a 'oh' noise in agreement and gave Roy a look. Quirking an eyebrow at the short banter, Roy impatiently bounced on the balls of his feet - Charlie seemed to notice this, thankfully, and he began speaking again, this time in a more informative manner than before. "Have you eaten regular meals?"

"Yes."

"Have you drunk enough liquid that isn't non-alcoholic?"

This caused Roy to pause for a moment and he had to refer back into his foggy memory to conjure a response. "Yes... I haven't drunken alcohol in a while, actually..."

"Surprisingly..." he heard Jean mumble under his breath.

"Have you exercised lately?"

Jean snorted at this. "Hah, no," he responded for the Colonel, "Roy's the biggest procrastinator ever. We tried to get him to get on the treadmill back at Central but he ended up falling asleep on the sofa and saying that he had paperwork to do, even though Hawkeye said she'd finished all of his." At the very mention of that incident, Roy could feel his cheeks go crimson and he laughed behind his hand.

"We need to make sure you have enough hemoglobin in your blood, too. Give me your finger." Charlie moved from his position beside the unconscious teenager, taking the needle from the reluctant and pouting Jordan and took hold of Roy's hand. The Colonel had to hold his breath to stop himself from having a miniature mental breakdown as he gently touched the point of the needle to the skin and pressed it in - they didn't have any kind of numbing cream because he hadn't signed the papers to send it down to Briggs from Central Headquarter's supplies so they couldn't do anything about the startling pinprick of pain.

"You know, this wouldn't hurt if you'd-"

"Jean, I _know_ I haven't signed the consent paper."

Jordan gave him an unimpressed glare. "You're the one that's put that stuff off for three months now?" he grumbled, "you better call up your officer in command and get him or her to sign it. The kid'll need it, you know." The ginger's expression was genuinely pissed off and Roy felt guilt curdling his insides like a butter churn blending some butter (duh).

"... uh, I'm his officer in command," Jean commented sheepishly, his cheeks tinging red, "but I'll call Riza and get her to do it once this has been done, I guess."

* * *

 _oh man, I have a feeling that this chapter SUCKED ASS. it was so dull and boring... I'm sorry, guys, I'm really sick and I really wanted to get a chapter out. and I'm sorry it's shorter than the others, too. I shall edit it when I feel up to it and make it a whole lot better for you guys, alright? it's pretty uninteresting, this chapter. lmao. but it was a filler so there isn't much I can do with it. next chapter is really bloody lmao_

 _ **fact:** I can draw manga! in fact, I do it all the time. lately I have drawn Ed, Ling, Greed and Rin from Blue Exorcist, though I thought that one was pretty damn naff. my favorite drawing has to be the Ed one. it was really hard to draw and the outcome was pretty amazing!_

 _regarding reviews... tell me what you thought! bad? good? boring? interesting? AMAZING? tell me, please! the support makes me feel like this story is loved and it tells me what you like about the chapter. and if you're awesome, please don't just put 'more' or 'please continue' - make them fully detailed if you can. all reviews (apart from flames) are wanted and loved but more detail is what makes my heart SING!_

 _thank you,  
\- **royalvite**._


	5. chapter 04: knives

_hello, hello, hello!  
the reviews were really nice, guys, thanks for that. and thanks for putting up with how dull the last chapter was, too...  
_

 ** _SLIGHT TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER, MAYBE._**

 ** _memeteam2016:_** _I FAN, I FAN. I AM LITERALLY YOUR BIGGEST FAN. I LOVE YOU AND YOUR STORIES. ;D_

 ** _Quiet Leaf:_** _oh, I never actually knew that. and yeah, it was dull, but not all of the chapters can be super action-packed, or the story'll be rushed. XD and of course we'll get a point of view from Ed soon and there may be one in this chapter... I don't know. lol._

 ** _DarkFlameFantasty:_** _ahhh it's so painful knowing that last chapter was boring to everyone... but it's okay, because it's a filler and it's completely necessary. thanks for the review fam, very much appreciated and I hope you'll find this more interesting~!_

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _AH I LOVE YOUR REVIEWS. they make me so happy. thank you so much, you are one of my favorite readers ever to exist._

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _aha, thank you! your reviews make me smile. (:_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _lmao I love how you always have a few lines of 'XD', it looks so comical. anyway, thank you!_

 ** _Guest:_** _oh I was scared Roy wasn't in character! I didn't realize he wasn't OOC. also, Ice Queen and her squad will come soon... thank you so much!_

 ** _DamenTheDiamond:_** _there will be plenty of future fluff eventually so just you wait... and thanks, by the way~!_

 ** _lilaclily00:_** _you got that right (;_

 ** _Guest(2):_** _A NEW SEASON?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING?!_

 _am I the only one getting creepy sexual anime adverts on this website? o_o_

 _thanks for reading and reviews are very much welcome,  
\- _**_royalvite_** _._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

 _( knives )_

.

Roy felt that the term 'hate' wasn't descriptive enough to relay how much he absolutely _resented_ blood donation processes. Perhaps the word 'despised' fit better, or even 'loathed'. All he knew was that he secretly thought of it as indirect robbery - they were _stealing_ his blood no matter what what they told him, even if he had given them expressed permission - and something extremely uncomfortable to last through. It felt as if the (17 gauge - which is _way_ too big to be an average, by the way) needle was inhaling his soul through the pump and sucking his very life force into the container. As he cringed at the very sensation, Havoc had actually _held his hand_ and Kai had unhelpfully observed that he looked as if he were giving birth, did he have a phobia to needles?

After the entire process, he had been so lightheaded that he had to close his eyes for a few minutes to keep his vision from spinning. He had been told to not move for at least ten minutes and Jordan had offered him a glass of water - which had been gratefully accepted - in order to steady the twirling world around him, but the icy coldness of the drink did nothing to mask the dizzy spells. There was a hammer of regret pounding against his skull, yet he knew that what he was doing was for the greater good; he had plenty of blood, after all, and apparantly the teenager they had rescued was suffering from a severe lack of it.

"Are you feeling alright, Boss?" Jean mumbled softly to his superior, dawning him with a concerned stare, "you look like you're about to throw up." The Colonel could feel a hand rubbing his shoulder in a solacing manner, like he was a child being soothed by his worried father. Tiredly, he fixated his gaze onto the blonde and increased the pressure on the area where the needle had pierced his skin.

"I'm fine, _mum_ ," he teased mutely. "My head hurts a little, though." Roy cast a faded look at Jordan, who didn't seem overly concerned about how generally exhausted he felt and kept on doing something at the medical kitchenette, his back turned to them. Although his narrow body mass shielded what he was currently doing, Roy knew that he was getting the blood completely ready before they transferred it to the unconscious teenager in the hospital bed.

Speaking of the kiddo...

From where Roy was sat, he could just about see the mysterious youth and the state he was in; his petite size barely took up half of the thin mattress, the covers swallowing his frame into a mint green expanse underneath the thin blankets offered to him as a source of warmth. They had apparantly had to slice through the middle of the sheets because of the three knives that still protruded from his stomach, the hilt standing rigid and upright sunken deep in the boy's skin. Upon seeing this, Roy felt a stab (no pun intended) of guilt attack his heart and he felt himself tense.

To make matters worse, he looked even weaker and smaller with only two remaining appendages. If he still had them, he would have probably been just as much of a sherrick, but the fact that someone who appeared so youthful and innocent had gone through something as traumatizing as loosing his arm and leg... it was generally the sort of thing that would happen in an epic story-line or behind a screen. But this wasn't a movie, this was really happening; he had the proof lying in front of his very eyes. It was almost unbelievable to know that this wasn't all just a bad dream and he would wake up on the train, to Jean happily chattering away about how easy it would be to rid of Cato and turn back for Central Headquarters once more.

They shouldn't have found the worn house or knocked on its collapsing door. They shouldn't have heard the pained sobbing and broken through the door to offer their help. They shouldn't have trodden in a growing pool of shadowed blood that smothered the entire floor with its crimson clutches. They shouldn't have discovered Cato's discarded body, punctured in the heart by the hedge trimmers sunken into his chest up to the hilt. They shouldn't have lit that darned candle and they certainly shouldn't have found a dying teenager crouched in the corner, bleeding from wounds that stretched from head to tail.

But they had.

That was what happened in a movie. A dream. How could it have happened in the real world?

Roy knew better then to think this way. The disbelief and mental angst were generic things that came with the job of being both a member of the military, along with the PTSD and other mental traumas. They had melted in to become part of their every day lives; becoming something so average and basic that they had eventually faded out of it. The heartbreak as one person died and someone desperately innocent got injured was a factor he should be used to by now.

So how did one child who got caught in the line of fire spike these feelings so severely?

The answer was simple, really; he was _young_.

Seeing someone who couldn't be more then fourteen years of age silently living through a wound as severe as not one, but _three_ knives to the stomach, as well as now having two limbs brutally severed, could make anyone feel the exact same way. While he couldn't exactly explain the emotion he was experiencing - it felt like it was a blend of depression, complete anger and something that felt a little more then just plain concern - he was pretty sure that it was because of the victim's youthfulness that he was so fucking _saddened_ to even look at his condition.

"Are you okay?" a voice inquired peacefully. Roy lifted his gaze from the limp figure in the bed to look at Charlie, who was smiling sympathetically down at the Colonel, his icy blue eyes lit with a gentle intelligence. "Do you need some more water? It's best you hydrate and eat plenty after donating so much blood. We have some sandwiches, if you'd like to have a few?" The man's tone had once been so comical but now it was soft-spoken; Roy could feel a chill vibrating down his spine at the sudden shift in demeanor. In fact, the entire medical team as well as Jean seemed to have realized how much the boy's condition had affected him and suddenly it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

"No, I'm alright, thank you," he responded, taking a sip of his remaining water. Although Charlie seemed unconvinced, he said nothing more and turned toward Jordan. He opened his mouth to speak, but his ginger-haired boss seemed to sense it despite not even looking at his subordinate and beat him to it with a tone so serious that Roy had actually been taken aback. Had everyone's humor disappeared for the sake of him or the teenager?

"I have the blood ready. A grand total of three pints of B- blood; two pints of blood already in our storage, one pint given by the legendary Roy. Since the average teenage male of his size generally has six pints of blood inside of them and he has lost, at average, around three of those, we have the exact amount of blood to get his body enough energy to begin generating red blood cells on his own," Jordan said intelligently; he grinned as he held up a hefty IV bag, filled to the brink with the crimson liquid they were presumably going to pump into the boy's system. All eyes were drawn to the bag as he studied it in the light, stormy grey eyes alight with so much pride that Roy was sure he was going to start puffing up like a lizard boasting to its newest mate.

"We can't put it directly into his bloodstream until we actually take the knives out and stitch the wounds, sir," Jake said sharply, "otherwise the blood'll come out right away and he'll die from bloodloss."

But this didn't phase Jordan in the least. "Aha! Ten out of ten, Jake. That is exactly why I'm counting on you guys to help me do this quickly. We take the knives out, Roy will get him in the neck with a sedative-" he abruptly took a needle full of a clear liquid out of his coat pocket and tossed it dangerously at Kai, who nearly fell off his chair trying to catch it without stabbing himself (Jean snickered under his breath at that), "-if he wakes up and we will stitch the knife wounds together as neatly and as quickly as possible. Then, Takashi will take the clip off the plastic tube and the blood will be in his system."

There were several noises of objection at this. "Why can't I do the stitching?" Takashi complained childishly, "Charlie is a lot better at using the clip and the machines then me!"

"Because you're awful at it, Takashi. That's why," Jordan responded without even a slight hesitation. "Jean, we'll need you to watch the heart monitor for us. It's most likely that his heart will start going crazy and if it flat-lines, we have a problem. If that happens, press that button on the wall and they'll have the next best medical team down here to help us." He motioned toward a small red button sat on the wall by the head of the bed that Roy hadn't actually noticed before that moment.

"I can do that," the blonde said confidentially, "all I do is press a button if the line goes flat. Sounds easy enough."

However, Roy was not as happy with his assignment. "What the Hell!" he objected loudly, "why do _I_ have to do the sedative?! I can barely stand up without my head spinning, let alone pierce a kid's neck with a needle! Especially as he'll be thrashing around, too!" The man had little energy to stand up and his vision spiraled as he amplified his voice but he took no notice; how could they trust him with something as delicate as that when there was a high possibility of him piercing the windpipe by accident? What was wrong with the medical units around here?

Jordan took no notice of his complaints and simply responded with a firm, "Roy, if you stop shouting, you'll find your head will stop aching so much."

"Why doesn't Kai do it or something? You have three of you on the knife wounds, Takashi on clip-removing duty and Jean on heart monitor patrol. One of you is free to do the sedative, aren't you?" The medical unit didn't look too impressed at his reluctance to do as asked and Jean was leaning toward a frowning Takashi, most likely mumbling about how stubborn his superior could be (the Briggs soldier seemed to agree rather heartily).

" _Because_ ," Jordan snapped, giving Roy a chilling glare that sent a flurry of ice cascading down his spine, "our good friend Charlie is a _medical assistant_ and a medical assistant _only_. He is here to give us our supplies when needed because _he_ knows the correct terminology for what we _need_. If he were to do this and _mess up_ because he is not _qualified_ to do it, the kid will _die_. Got it, _Colonel_?"

Roy gulped, wide-eyed. "Y-yes." _... I'm not qualified either..._

But the angry atmosphere seemed to melt away and Jordan's charming grin lifted the tense air from the room. "Good!" he chirped, immediately brighter, "I guess we'd better get started, then. Charlie, get the equipment from Box Thirty-Two and Forty Seven prepared on the cart, if you please."

.

There they were, all stood in position; Jean was observing the heart monitor with half-lidded eyes and a lazy expression riding his face, with Jordan and Kai stooped beside the teenager lying unconsciously on the bed, their hands hovering over the two knives closest to where they were situated. Jake had his ghosting over the third, which was a little way away from the others, and Charlie was moving restlessly as he leant against the cart full to the teeth of medical supplies of all sorts - bandages, disinfectants, stitching needles and black silk thread being the most noticeable. Meanwhile, Roy was positioned beside the kid's neck, his eyes narrowed determinedly at the vein he planned to piece with the sedative in his clammy hands.

There had been much to do before they could start - Jordan had put a pair of white sweats (that they apparantly use all the time for this kind of purpose) onto the boy as a source of decency as he pulled the hospital gown so his stomach was showing. In turn, this made the area where the knives were a lot easier to access. When they had lifted the clothing out of the way, Roy had been shocked to see that his entire torso was covered in a good layer of blood; so much so that he could barely see the skin underneath. Though, he wasn't particularly interested in seeing it, because he knew that he'd only have yet another mental breakdown. There were most likely scars there and there was no way in the world he wanted to see those just yet.

Kai had been asked to sponge the boy's stomach down with a mix of water and hydro peroxide, but had to be very, very careful he didn't flush out the wounds; hydro peroxide has been known to dissolve blood (which is why they used it to effectively clean off the loose blood smothering his body), so if it got into his body, it wouldn't be much good for him. While this happened, Jake had to strap the boy's wrists down by leather cuffs on the bed, so he couldn't harm himself or other people as he awoke from the pain. They had slipped a 'professional' gag into his mouth so the boy would have something to bite down on until the sedative did its job.

Already, it seemed like they were getting prepared to torture him - but Roy knew very well that it was all to help him. Of course, Jordan had mentioned that he may not know that, but he would in due time. It was slightly cruel but it was required for a safe treatment, after all, so he chose not to object against it.

"Now, he's bound to wake up when this happens and we don't want to pain him too much, so we'll need to take each knife out quickly and at the exact same time. The moment his eyes open, before he can register anything, Roy, you'll need to get him with the sedative. His body will be weak and it is fast-acting stuff, so he won't be able to keep his consciousness for very long. Then the process will be a whole lot easier and we can stitch a lot better and safer, though we will have to very fast in cleaning up the blood, disinfecting it and then stitching it before he can loose whatever blood he has left. Jake, Kai, be careful of the ports of his missing limbs - we have yet to treat those." Jordan spoke quickly but clearly, in a tone that only expressed formality and a sense of leadership. The Colonel knew that the ginger's power in bossing others around matched up to his easily. "Got it?"

A chorus of strong 'yep!'s echoed off the walls and Jordan grinned widely. "Good. Let's start, shall we?"

There was a beat of tense silence and Roy could feel his nerves twisting at his insides at the very thought of what they were about to do.

" _Three_..."

Jordan, Kai and Jake lowered their hands onto the bloodied hilts of the knives.

" _Two..._ "

Roy held his breath, Jean visibly looked as if he were going to shit himself and Charlie was already holding half the medical cart in his hands.

" _One_..."

Their grips tightened on the hilts, bathing their hands in blood.

" _ **Pull**!_ "

There wasn't even a beat of silence before Jordan, Kai and Jake's hands erupted upwards, the knives tight in their hold; a spray of crimson followed them out and painted the air with its harshly vibrant colour and scent, before finally splattering onto the floor beneath their feet with a sound that seemed equal to skin smacking against water. The wounds, shredded and deep, where spilling with a liquid of the same shadowed hue, trickling like rainwater down a window down the boy's battered bare torso; it was beginning to stain the bed sheets with droplets of dangerous red and smothered their clothes with a good layer of the thick, gloopy substance. Even Takashi was in range and had the blood all across the torso of his medical jacket.

Immediately, everyone pushed into action - Jordan shouted at Charlie to give everyone the needles and silken thread, which he did so with a panicked fumble in his touch, and Jean's eyes were narrowed sharply onto the heart monitor; the neon green line was spiking and the beeping was growing so fast that it could have been that singular piercing note if they knew differently.

But Roy?

Roy was too busy having his heart struck by many different forces of nature all at once.

For staring directly at him, with little more than a dull flame simmered down to weak, disheartened embers behind a sheet of pain and panic, were eyes of the most molten colour he had ever seen in his life; a hue that didn't even begin to hit amber. No, they weren't anything near that. They were _gold_ , heated like magma and swirling with magnificent darker streaks that seemed to blend into nothing but... _fog_. Grey, distant fog that didn't seem to focus on anything. Nothing at all. It made him feel as if his he had just been struck by lightning. Roy recognized the faded mist that had collected in the teenager's iris.

It meant he couldn't see him.

It meant...

 _He was blind_.

He never realized he was staring at the boy until Jordan's voice suddenly broke through his shock. "ROY!" the ginger was screaming urgently, "THE SEDATIVE, FOR FUCKS SAKE! GET THE SEDATIVE!"

Finally, Roy started registering the outside world. The boy wasn't lying still anymore, staring at Roy with those distant eyes; his mouth was closed tightly onto the gag through a broken scream and he was kicking out at Jordan's face with his remaining leg, trying to break free of the straps that held the teenager down by his wrists with all he had. Tears of anguish streaked his bruised face and his golden bangs had fallen over his eyes in his desperate struggling. It was like he was a caged animal begging for freedom, almost.

"I can't- he won't stay still!" Roy relayed, trying to locate where the jugular vein was in his neck through all the constant thrashing. Just as he was about to give up and just knock the kid out using brute strength, the teenager seemed to suddenly run out of energy all together and he suddenly fell stiller then before, though his strained sobs and desperate objections didn't halt in their full glory. Using the brief lack of motion to his advantage, Roy moved forward and pierced the skin right where he wanted it, pushing the contents of the needle into the boy's blood stream. The sensation appeared to have provoked him again and he let out another stressed sob as he hopelessly fought Roy back, but as Jordan had said, the sedative was fast-working and its affects seemed to kick in almost immediately.

He released a strained cry, before the teenager's limbs seemed to grow heavy and his eyelids gave way to gravity. It wasn't long before he had gone limp in the sedative's soothing grasp and suddenly the room was quiet - the only noise being the heart monitor and the heavy breaths of the medical unit as they worked their magic on the wounds. Pulling in shuddering breaths, Roy's onyx eyes dragged over the patient, dropping the needle by his feet in exhaustion.

Jordan was the first to speak out of all of them. "Charlie, could we have the disinfectant and the paper towels?" he inquired softly, as if being careful not to wake the patient up despite him being under in a medically-induced slumber. The black-haired man obliged with no hesitation, mutely passing a specialized packet of wipes and a roll of blue paper towels to Jordan as well as Jake and Kai.

Seeing as Roy had already completed his job in the situation, he chose to observe the stitching processes; Jordan had just about finished using the disinfectant and the paper towels to clean some blood away and the wound he was assigned to had stopped bleeding quite a while ago. The needle and silk thread in hand, he began to expertly stitch the wound, gradually securing it closed so neatly that Roy almost forgot that there was a wound even there. If it wasn't for the fact that the thread was a visible colour against the boy's pallid skin and that there was still traces of blood surrounding the area, Roy wouldn't have seen the injury whatsoever. For such quick work, it was incredibly well-done.

Kai and Jake seemed to be finished with the wounds they had been asked to treat, Roy noticed as his gaze slid over to their hands. The pony-tailed man was wiping away leftover blood from the edges of his stitching blood with a fresh disinfectant wipe, occasionally glancing up at the mystery teenager's face with a furrow in his brow and a tentative purse gracing his lips. Jake, however, had completed the job fully; he was sat back and eyeing the bandages that Charlie was gathering from the medical cart with almost a _bored_ expression on his face. This didn't actually Roy; he knew now that the brown-haired man was quite nonchalant with his work compared to the rest.

Meanwhile, Takashi was beginning to grow impatient and began tapping his foot from the plastic tube of the blood transfusing IV bag. "When're you guys finished?" he questioned with only a hint of venom behind his words, as if he were restraining himself from punching something; Roy often related to the exact same emotion, in situations such as when he had to speak respectfully to a superior who was so dumb and so insensitive that he kind of wanted to just strangle them.

Chuckling at his subordinate's desperation to get moving, Jordan used a pair of discarded scissors to cut the loose end of the thread. "All we have to do it make sure the stitches are secure, then we can bandage over them," Jordan responded, his tone distant as he looked over the three stitched wounds with something proud in his stormy grey eyes. "Good job, guys, these are pretty damn perfect for something we had to rush. I'll be sure to put in a good word for you all when I report this incident to the resident Ice Queen." The ginger looked positively pleased and his subordinates seemed over the moon at being praised; Kai and Jake even had their hands meet in a sloppy high-five (and laughed as they missed and nearly collided into each other's faces).

"Bandages, sir," Charlie said blankly, dropping a couple of rolls of the stretchy white material and a packet of medical tape into his superior's hands, before he adjusted his lopsided glasses and began gathering the objects on the cart into certain drawers and cupboards. The ginger cocked an eyebrow at the young man, passing a roll of bandages to Kai and Jake, who began unwrapping a stretch of it the moment it was in their gloved grasp.

"How're you going to tackle the bandaging?" Jean spoke for the first time in a while, leaning nonchalantly against the heart monitor, his eyes half-closed exhaustively. "If you wrap it just around his torso, it'll come loose when he moves, wouldn't it?" The blonde observed the teenager briefly, before he looked over at Roy in an exasperated manner. He returned the look with one of his own as he sunk against the wall.

"That's precisely what we're _not_ going to do," Jordan responded roughly through his teeth; he had lowered himself down onto one knee beside the bed, keeping his gaze level with the boy's narrow torso as he studied the area with keen precision. "That being said, I think we will have to wrap it around his left shoulder as well as his torso, so it stays secure... this is going to be awkward to do. In other news, though, we can have the clip removed on the tube, to let the donation blood into his system. Takashi, if you'd do the honors..."

"Yes, sir," Takashi said stiffly. He withdrew his hand from his tousled hair and pinched the handles of the clip together; the crimson liquid inside of the tube rushed out like water exiting from a once-tangled hosepipe and as it entered the teenager's veins, the frail blonde seemed to flinch and his head fell the other way. Concerned, Roy went to alert Jordan, but the ginger Briggs soldier seemed to be unworried about the boy's movement and simply continued working out the dynamics for beginning the wound's wrapping process. The heart monitor made a short 'pip' noise and, according to Charlie, that meant that the heart was growing more even instead of the jagged pulse it had been performing before.

"At least he's getting a little better, though we've yet to take a look at all of his wounds," Jake remarked, obviously pointing out the missing limbs and their bloodied stumps. At this, Jordan made a face and briefly glanced up to meet Roy's dark gaze.

"When the Colonel over here carried the boy through the cold," the ginger began as he started wrapping the bandages neatly around said boy's bruised torso, "the temperature seemed to work to his favor. The veins were trapped shut and that stopped most of the bleeding, though Kai did say that in the ambulance, the ice seemed to melt and they had to disinfect and re-bandage the stump fully... by the way, who was the one who slammed into the wall as I was driving?" He looked up, a weary grin on his face.

A red-faced Charlie spoke up anxiously from a chair. "Oh, that was me. Kai didn't stop laughing for ages, because he's a bitch..."

"It was funny!" Kai argued, though there was no venom behind his words.

"We're getting off track," Takashi pointed out in a dull tone, his brow furrowed seriously as he then turned to a chuckling Jordan, "sir, are we going to think about getting the boy automail? If he's up to it, of course." The surgeon's coffee brown orbs ghosted over the teenager's unconscious body, as if he were assessing his dire state. There was a concerned glow to his gaze, one that Roy briefly related to - it was difficult not to be worried about the mystery boy's health, both physical and mental.

"Judging by his _physical_ state, he won't be much better in his physiological health either. Having automail surgery would only dent his healing from the trauma. It's debatable whether he'd ever get better enough to even consider getting automail," Jordan commented quietly. The ginger was stooping right over the teenager, connecting the bandages wrapped over his shoulder to the ones around his torso with expert precision in his touch. "And we can't use sedatives, either. You have to be awake for automail surgery."

"Good point..." Takashi agreed just as inaudibly, before he amplified his voice and looked Roy dead in the eye, "just a question, Colonel. Why did you take so long to put the sedative into his neck? He was still for like, two minutes. That gave you plenty of time to get it in. Did you recognize him or something?"

"Huh?" Roy said intelligently, snapped out of his unfocused silence by the sudden inquiry, "oh... no, not at all. I was just... just shocked by his eyes, is all." Seeing the numerous puzzled looks, Roy chose to elaborate. "They were golden. Not amber - no, the colour didn't even begin to hit amber - they were quite literally the colour of gold. The only thing is..." He trailed off mutely, an image of a broken landscape layered by grey fog flashing in his vision, like a reminder of the dull broken gaze that had bet his dark eyes.

"The only thing is..." Jean repeated, indirectly urging his superior to continue.

Roy appeared uncomfortable. "... there was a grey mist in his eyes, too. They were unfocused and didn't seem to focus on... _anything_. The only thing I could think of was blindness, but-"

"Blindness?" Jordan tensed, his gaze flickering at the boy's face. "That... that wouldn't be good. A blind, traumatized teenager... his healing process would be prolonged by at least a year, because he'd have to get used to being blind. Unless, of course, he was born blind, but a grey mist usually means that it wasn't born. When he's a little better, I'll have to take a look at it."

Meanwhile, Jean looked disheartened. "I had an uncle who was blind," the blonde remarked distantly, "he was blinded when he was around... fifty, maybe? He hated it, because he couldn't see the colour in the world, he couldn't see peoples faces. He always thought of himself as a cripple because of it. Loosing your eyesight this young? It'll only make things worse." He paused apprehensively, wringing his hands together as he glanced at the teenager.

"Depression... anxiety..." Jake said shortly and there was no need to elaborate; everyone understood was he was getting at already.

"PTSD," Roy supplied quietly, "you think he'll have PTSD when he comes out of this?"

"Most likely," Jordan responded, a sense of formality underlying his tone, "he's obviously been through something awfully traumatic. There'll be consequences such as PTSD, depression, anxiety... maybe even suicidal thoughts and actions. We'll have to see his awaking behavior if we want to fully evaluate things." The ginger man stood up, seeing as he was finished with the bandaging job, and went to the sink to clean his hands; the gloves made an audible snapping noise as he peeled them off and threw them into the bin. As if suddenly remembering protocol, Jake and Kai followed, and the other two medical assistants slid into chairs, yawning tiredly and muttering something about a raise in their pay.

However, Jean didn't seem so exhausted anymore. If anything, he acted more like he was high on unhealthy amounts of caffeine then a sleep-deprived solider. "Don't forget, the investigation team are coming down soon, and they'll be expecting us to be here. Have anywhere we can stay, Jordan?"

* * *

 _this chapter was slightly shorter than usual, but oh well. 5,671 words is good enough, isn't it?  
_ _anyway, I hope this chapter was slightly more exciting. it has a little action, blood and you get more insight on Ed's condition. hopefully, this makes up for how dull last chapter was! it was fun to write, hopefully even better to read. (:_

 ** _fact:_** _I hate people. people piss me off._

 _regarding reviews... please give me a few! boring? interesting? dull? amazing? bloody? awesome? action-packed? TELL ME! I accept anything but flames. reviews make an author really, really happy and make them feel like the story is loved. also, thanks to those who have reviewed so far, they a truly amazing reviews and they make me feel great about my writing skills~!_

 _much love,  
\- **royalvite**._


	6. chapter 05: thunder

_hello, hello, hello!  
wow, apparantly a lot of you loved the last chapter. the reviews were brilliantly uplifting._

 ** _DarkFlameFantasy:_** _i_ _t makes me so happy to know you loved it. thanks for the amazing review!_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _wow, a long review with so many topics~! ah, Kuro is one of the best in the show in my opinion. I can't wait for season 2! and no, they don't know who Ed is; in this AU, they have no idea he existed._

 ** _Crysteldragon:_** _yes, I shall do that; but first I need to finish Noragami, Bleach, Black Butler and Deathnote... heh._

 ** _Quiet Leaf:_** _yes, I like realistic OCs. thanks for the review!_

 ** _DamenTheDiamond:_** _to be honest, I nearly forgot too. heh. thanks for the review!_

 ** _lilaclily00:_** _hah, don't feel bad. it's cool. and yes, there are many exceptions to my distaste for humans, such as you. thanks~!_

 ** _Guest:_** _was that positive or negative? I guess I got the timeline right? *shrug*_

 ** _starryshouyou:_** _that review was so beautiful and uplifting. thank you so much!_

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _I actually check for your reviews, because they're so amazing. thank you so much, fam._

 ** _arrowriver:_** _yeah, life, and lack of decent internet. XD thanks for the review, it made me smile (:_

 _wow, I am so so sorry that this was so late! my internet has been dropping in and out every ten minutes or so - you have no idea how annoying it is to have to wait for ages before you can open up the document to paste in my writing, save it and then upload it. it took TWO HOURS. ugh. you're all lucky I like to write this story, or I would have given up. XD_

 _MY FRIEND BROUGHT ME A WHITE DOG TOY, ATTACHED BROWN HAIR TO IT AND ADDED A BUTTON THAT SAYS "ed...ward..." WHEN YOU PRESS ITS NOSE. THANKS B BUT I ALREADY CRIED ENOUGH ROSE. D:_

 _hope you enjoy and reviews would be cool,  
\- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

 _( thunder )_

.

 _It was dark and the cold was claws at his bare arms with its unforgivable talons._

 _The room stunk of something - he couldn't see it, but it came from him, he knew what it was, and that was all he could register through the agony._

 _He was spellbound in the corner by the trauma._

 _Something pierced his stomach, throbbing and tender and_ why did it hurt so bad _?_

 _He was pinned against the icy walls that entrapped him in what he knew was soon going to be his tomb._

 _Then, a voice, one dark and hinted with an impenetrable sense of lost humanity. "This is for your own good... I'm sorry, Edward."_

 _The axe came down and the pain enveloped his very soul._

.

Coffee.

Such a beautiful thing, Roy had decided, as he stared into the depths of the mahogany liquid. It was coloured almost the same hue as the velvety midnight sky, like a black, never-ending void of bitterness, and it sent swirls of light-coloured steam curling into the air, sprinkled with the inciting aroma of rich, silky roasted beans. A scent that bridged the gap between childhood memories and present day indulgence - the Colonel took several breaths as his head hovered over the mug, grasping its warmth in his shivering fingers, like his life depended on the matter.

Just as Roy began contemplating how much he relied on coffee (or caffeine in general), a voice shattered the glass wall that guarded his incoherent thoughts. It sounded quiet and distant, though through the wash of uncomfortable silence, it carved the air like a knife. "The storms seem to be getting worse..." it mumbled softly - the tone could have been labelled sad, for those who weren't aware of the situation, of course. It certainly wasn't sad in the least; the speaker was simply homesick, growing tired of the cold blizzards of the North, longing for the warm summer sunshine of Central.

Roy Mustang's dark onyx orbs peered curiously through his tousled raven bangs to look at the soldier; the blonde was positioned in a chair beside the window, a cigarette hanging nonchalantly from the parting in his lips, the faded smoke wafting into the air in delicate puffs of ash. Sharp grey optics stared out of the polished glass, reflecting distance and the icy hailstones that battered at the window. It was almost like his body was in the room but his mind had wandered elsewhere. Somewhere on the horizon, raging thunderclaps resounded through the foggy grey clouds and flashes of lightning curled through the skies, slicing through the shadowed darkness of their temporary hotel room with dancing yellow illuminations.

"It appears so," Roy agreed quietly, before diverting his gaze back to his paperwork. There were still many things to do - giving Central Headquarters permission to send an investigation unit up to Briggs, requesting for an extra dose of medical supplies to accompany them on their journey - and while the mysterious teenager was resting and Jordan's medical unit went to take a break, he had a good chance to complete them. Despite being exhausted out of his mind, Jean had chosen to stay awake with his tired superior, and had taken to simply staring out of the window and looking as if he were contemplating life and death.

"When will we get to go home?" Jean looked over at Roy, his head lazily lolling against the wall. "Back to Central, I mean."

Sighing, the Colonel set down his pen and gave his paperwork a sour glare. "It depends, Havoc," he responded seriously, "on whether we should bring the kid with us, so he can get better medical care at Central's infirmary. If we don't, we can go back with the investigation unit if we really wanted to and leave him here at Briggs with Jordan and the rest of his medical unit. Takashi told me that we're welcome to do that and they'll take care of him. The only thing is, since things are quite strict about having children running around up here, they'll have to put him in adoption services - which will be a long process with him especially." The older man placed a hand on his chin, looking at Jean with soft eyes as he continued. "And if you _do_ want to take him with us, we'll be up here for a lot longer."

Jean's shoulders visibly slumped and suddenly his expression was more severe than before. "I... that makes sense, I suppose." There was a battling atmosphere surrounding him, like he was fighting for two options in his mind, though Roy was careful not to make a reaction and simply gave his paperwork yet another unhappy glance. The silence seemed to rattle the blonde and his feet made an audible tapping noise as he rapped them against the floor, almost impatient to fill the quiet with anything he could. Just as Roy was about to smack him because of the irritating sound, Jean straitened and spoke once more.

"Putting him in adoption services would be cruel, wouldn't it? The kid has just gone through a huge trauma and he'll be physiologically effected, as well as physically broken and very expensive to care for; no one would want to take in a teenager with problems like that. They'll just think he has serious mental issues and treat him like some sort of cripple or someone who belongs in an asylum. Besides, it'll just make him feel rejected and lonely, and I don't think that's what he really needs right now." Jean seemed to have gone into full lecture mode and it actually surprised Roy, who leant forward on his desk and rested on his elbows.

"That's a good point," he agreed, "but it would make no difference whether we bring him to Central or leave him, now that I think about it. We'll have to put him in adoption services either way-"

"Hughes!" Jean interrupted abruptly, suddenly amplified and excited, "Hughes would take him in! You know him; he's a huge softy when it comes to kids and I have no doubt that he'd spoil the heck out of that teenager!"

"... true." Roy gave the blonde a level look, before diverting his gaze to the right and staring into his coffee mug once more.

Jean had a point; Hughes loved children more then he loved anything else (apart from his wife) and he would most likely jump at the chance to take care of the kid. Plus, he was incredibly gentle and patient; a personality just right for taking care of someone as damaged as the mysterious teenager lying unconscious in the infirmary ward. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to fit. Having Maes take care of the kid meant that he'd have little to do with him, which was perfectly good considering that he'd never time to even ask how he was doing when he got back to Central. Of course, he would ask on the occasion, but he wouldn't have time in his schedule to do it often.

"So... we're going to take the kid with us?" Jean inquired almost hopefully, all the while visibly compressing a yawn, "and let Hughes baby him?"

"Well... we'll have to ask when he eventually gets down here with our investigation unit. Jordan says that they only have forensics up here and they aren't good with dead people or blood from lack of experience with it, so he advised bringing Central's down here. Also, I think Breda, Feury and Hawkeye are coming down too, so we'll have more people to debate what to do. Besides, _I_ think that Hughes should take him in, and I think the rest of the unit as well as other soldiers such as Armstrong would say so too," Roy said, trailing off a little as he caught sight of the cocky smirk ghosting Jean's face through another violent flash of lightning. "What? Why're you smiling like that, Havoc? ... are you mentally undressing me or something? Because I really hope you _aren't_." **(I nearly put 'are' instead of 'aren't' (((((((((((; RoyJean amiright)**

The blonde's cheeks reddened by little more than a mere hint, as if he were humiliated upon being caught. "No! No, no, no. I was just thinking... what if _you_ took him in, Boss? You have a huge house... _and a big pay check_... plus, I have a nagging feeling you'd make a fantastic dad!"

"Wh- Havoc, why-... _d-dad_?!" Roy stuttered like a nervous child, spluttering and nearly spraying his precious coffee all over his not-so-precious paperwork. "Havoc, you know all too well that I don't like children! I can't take care of one - in that way - if I don't like them, can I?!" _Why did Jean even think of that?_ It was practically a crime to say that Roy Mustang - Colonel of the Amestrian military, Flame Alchemist and a **( _hot_ ) **man with the smallest ego possible (that's what _he_ thought, anyway... sometimes, people say his self-esteem is actually inflated, which it _totally_ isn't) - would make a suitable father for a severely broken, immobilized teenager with little sight in either eye. Plus, he would have no time to baby the kid what with all of the duties he has to take care of.

"You would!" Jean argued, his voice ridden with comical laughter, "you'd be that cool dad that everyone wants because he has an awesome job, can make fire with his fingers and knows how to use almost every gun the military has to offer! Everyone would love you even more because you took in a damaged teen willingly - well, kind of, anyway. Plus, you'd get extra money from the department, because you'd have to pay medical bills and pay for automail surgery and-"

"Jean, I am not taking him in. That is final. I really can't and I really, really, really don't want to," Roy relayed firmly, his brow furrowing critically at the ecstatic blonde. "If you want, you can take him in, because I don't really care what happens to him." The Colonel then leant back in his seat, spinning around in the office chair before moving his coffee mug off his paperwork and lining the papers up in a neater stack. "I'm going to sleep now, Havoc. You should too - you look exhausted. Also, take the cigarette out, it's making my lungs burn and I'm standing all the way over here..."

But Jean didn't move straight away; instead, he took another long, fruitful drag from the cigar and stared intently at Roy. "Y-you don't care what happens to him?" he repeated, blinking as if in shock, "... from what I saw, you certainly _do_ care about what happens to him. Someone who didn't care wouldn't get emotional when seeing the kid's dire physical state and his visual disability. Someone who didn't care wouldn't have a tiny panic attack when hearing that he's flat-lining." The blonde stood up, walking closer to his superior before stopping a mere two inches away from him.

"And you did all of those things. Therefore, you _do_ care about what happens to him. You care more than any of us do."

Roy paused, giving Jean an incredulous look. "Havoc..." He pressed his hand against the younger man's chest and pushed him backwards gently, trying to avoid being burnt by the end of his cigarette. "... anyone with a sense of humanity would do the same. Seeing a kid in that kind of state would make anybody do what I did." The Flame Alchemist sighed mutely, running a hand through his tousled raven hair. "Is my careless reputation that strong? That whenever I convey some sort of emotion that would represent something not expressing my apparent god complex, people suddenly begin thinking that I'm a completely different person?"

"I never said you were a different person. I simply said that you'd make a great dad, Boss." Jean slid the cigarette from between his lips and snuffed it out using the ice-covered window pane. The unnerving scent of smoke burnt the air and Roy coughed inaudibly, trying not to retch at the strong smell.

"God dammit, Havoc! Will you stop telling me that I'd make a _fucking_ good dad?! It's not even _funny_ anymore! I wish you'd just drop it, for _fucks' sake_ , before I _fire you completely_ , you _no-good, worthless_ excuse of a solider!" he shouted without thinking, his white ignition gloves on his hands and his fingers poised to snap. Roy hadn't meant to explode like that - his inner anger had gotten the best of him - but he had, and it was too late to take back the damage dealt by what he had said. Immediately, the Colonel opened his mouth to apologize, but Jean interrupted him before he could speak.

"I..." the blonde trailed off, diverting his gaze moodily to the left and letting out a elongated, profound sigh. "I'm going to sleep... goodnight, Colonel."

Roy only regarded Jean as he moved to climb under the duvets.

.

The sunlight was what jolted Jean Havoc out of his slumber - rays of molten gold broke through the glass of the window, surrounding the navy curtains in a beautiful halo of morning light and bathing the room in a pool of dancing illuminations. Blearily, the blonde blinked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with childishly balled fists as his brain slowly registered the atmosphere around him. The scent of smoke, while faded throughout the cold clutches of the air, still hung off the furniture, and Jean briefly wondered whether it would be a good idea to open the windows in order to rid of the leftover tendrils of the smell. Doing so would most likely make the room even icier, but he couldn't care less right now.

He lifted his head from the stiff pillow he had slept on, feeling a dull pain spike the back of his neck from the sudden effort. Across the room, his chest rising and falling in time with his gentle snores, lay the Colonel; he was asleep and peacefully so, with the thick duvet tucked up near his chin and one leg falling nonchalantly over the side of the bed, which sagged a little with his weight. The man's face was alight with the golden glows of the rising sun, though it only defined the dark smudges under his eyes and the soft traces of cold dusting his cheeks with a sprinkle of a fever-resembling red.

Subconsciously, the blonde's mind floated back to only a few hours before, when Roy had verbally attacked him with words consisting of 'no-good' and 'worthless'. He cringed at the very memory; he had felt almost empty after his superior had yelled at him like that, having no idea whether he was going to apologize about it or not. Knowing the Colonel, he would stall until someone like Riza (or Jordan - he was pretty frightening at the worst of times, as Roy had proved) finally convinced him or put him at gunpoint and ordered him to do it. The older man relied on his prideful attitude far too much, so much so that it occasionally put his or another life in danger whilst on a particularly nerve-racking mission.

Momentarily, Jean wondered whether Roy had actually meant it or not. Of course, the raven-haired man had been exhausted out of his mind, stressed from having to deal with the mystery teenager and beat from kinda-willingly donating an entire pint of his blood for a better cause. Such an outburst should have been expected from someone in his state; after all, Jean had done the same thing once or twice to Breda, Falman or Feury when he arrived to work sleep deprived and coffee reliant.

But Roy had sounded awfully serious and it scared him to think that the man he had looked up at and admired for years may think of him that way. Had the Colonel always thought of him as useless and no-good, and bottled it up in order to avoid hurting his subordinate's feelings? Roy definitely wasn't the kind of person that would do that - he would just say it all there and then without so much as a second thought, usually - but a nagging feeling told Jean that it may just be the case this time around.

A low groan pulled the blonde out of his thoughts and he glanced at Roy, to see he hadn't actually woken up like Jean originally suspected and had only shifted in his slumber. He looked so peaceful from across the room, yet something barely appeared to be troubling him judging by the furrow in his brow and his tightened jaw. For a few moments, Jean wondered whether he should just go to sleep again - it was most likely extremely early - but then decided against it a few seconds later as soon as he realized that the sun would prevent him from actually falling under for a good few hours. Curse his sensitivity when it came to sleep.

The ground was icily cold under his bare feet but he took no notice of the matter. Instead, Jean moved to get his clothing off the chair he had been sat on only a few hours before. He had slept in nothing but his underwear from lack of pajamas (he planned to call Hughes to drop off by his house and get him some changes of clothing, since he couldn't exactly do it himself) and the frozen air was relentless in biting at his exposed skin. Shivering as he pulled on his military uniform and his thick winter boots, the blonde soldier spared Roy a glance before leaving the room.

It hadn't taken long for Jake to show the pair where they would be staying; they had been gifted with a temporary room in the soldier's dorm building, located in an attachment to the south of the main area of Briggs. While certainly more lively then the graying dorms back at Central and the East (he'd never been to Southern Headquarters before), it was a whole lot colder, though understandably so. The walls were made of a smooth tan paint, the floors were a rich mahogany colour and the doors were head-concealing, thick white planks of wood with intricate designs carved into the surface. There was most likely a lot of thermal material stuffed into the walls, too - he could almost smell it.

To fill the tense silence that was only interrupted by his light footsteps and the brief sound of someone shouting in a distant building, Jean subconsciously began singing under his breath - the chorus of 'Angel With a Shotgun' by The Cab, he thought to himself once finally remembering where the tune came from.

But a voice interrupted him as he strode through a random corridor, one that portrayed a sense of confusion. "Second Lieutenant?" it questioned, trying to gain his attention. The blonde turned to face the speaker only to see a familiar ginger head staring at him, an eyebrow raised and a forthcoming grin decorating his features. "What're you doing out here? It's barely five in the morning. You should really go back to sleep, Second Lieutenant..."

"Hi, Jordan," Jean greeted sleepily. "The light woke me up and I can't get back to sleep. Why are you up? You worked really hard yesterday and you look absolutely shattered." The blonde's sharp grey eyes narrowed at the man; indeed, the dark purple smudges under bleary storm-coloured eyes contrasted against the pale pigment of his freckled skin and his ginger hair was sticking out in all directions but the one route it should go in - directly upwards. It was obvious he was beat and Jean didn't blame him. Him and the rest of the Northern medical unit had worked incredibly hard for such a short notice patient who really needed the help.

"Oh, I was actually heading to my dorm. I'm right across from you two, with the rest of my unit beside me. That part of the building is reserved for the Vegas unit and since you're kind of with us until we decide on when you're going back to Central, you got in there too." The ginger's smile tapered away very slightly, then returned brighter than ever before. "That reminds me - who is coming down here from Central later on in the week? The Major General wanted the information." There was a piece of paper and pen in the man's gloved hands and he suddenly wore a pair of reading glasses that looked like Hughes' own pair.

"... Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Sergeant Kain Feury, as well as our two forensics soldiers and the investigation unit. I don't know who they are exactly, I've never met them before and Colonel Mustang never told me."

"Cool, thanks. By the way, you can go visit the kid if you like. Charlie and Kai are in there. Where's Roy?"

"He's... he's sleeping. G'night, Jordan."

"You mean good _morning_ , Havoc."

"Yeah, yeah."

.

The infirmary ward wasn't a quiet as Jean had expected it to be at such an hour. When he opened the door, several noises attacked his senses at once; the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the clutter of metal instruments, the whirring of some sort of generator, two different voices laughing and joking rather stridently to each other. Though, as he cleared his throat in order to gain some attention to his attendance, it seemed to suddenly turn hushed and Charlie's head appeared around the corner.

"Oh, hello Jean. I didn't know you woke up so early," he addressed, his voice small and gracious as his clear blue eyes met Jean's sharp grey ones. "Kai and I are just cleaning up from yesterday's events and getting out some more supplies to do what we need to do today. Would you like a cup of coffee? ... because Kai was going to get some for us. He wouldn't mind taking another cup with him." The man's intelligence and formal way of speech was soaking through his words and Jean grinned, liking how the youthful Briggs soldier treated him. It was like he was the King of the Army and Charlie was a lowly private, in a way.

"Yeah, coffee sounds good." He looked over at Kai, who was sat on a chair, combing his long mahogany hair with a brush and smiling at the blonde in a tired yet approachable manner. There were bags under both his and Charlie's eyes too, though the latter of the two did well in hiding it with his thick black glasses. "Where's the rest of the team?"

"Taking a break," Kai responded plainly, "though I think Takashi is with his older brother Rin in the forensics lab. They have to come back soon, to help us with re-bandaging where the boy's limbs are supposed to be while Jordan is taking his share of sleep. He's been working all week with barely sleep and... and I'm rambling. Sorry." The man went red-faced and let out a nervous laugh, changing the subject with smooth practise. "I'm guessing that Colonel Mustang is still asleep, then?"

"Yeah..." Jean trailed off mutely, not really feeling like he wanted to even think about his superior at the moment, let alone have a conversation about him. "How's the kid? Any different from yesterday?" he inquired curiously, diverting his gaze from the older man to the teenager lying in the bed.

The mint green blankets nearly swallowed the frail, lithe body in its sanitary expanse, but Jean could see the boy from the door; his head was tilted to the side, his cracked pink lips parted by a fraction to allow some sort of clear plastic tube access to his throat, most likely a device added to help him breath. His skin was painfully pallor and stretched over his too-defined features, reddened around the area where the bruises were gradually fading away and where the gag had been fixed around his head from the knife-removal progression.

Though the boy would have probably been diminutive even if he had all four limbs, with two missing, he looked even more broken. It was almost depressing; someone who was far too young to have experienced such a trauma was suffering because of whatever or whoever had attacked him. By the end of it all, he would be a veteran to pain, especially if they were going to give him automail.

This thought brought him back to a topic he hadn't really thought about over the past day or so - the body of Cato, the Blacksmith Alchemist, who had been their original target and reason to come down to Briggs. Thank the Lord they had, for if they hadn't, the kid would have already been a goner. What had happened to the former State Alchemist? What could have been so twisted and brutal as to impale Cato with a pair of hedge trimmers and to sever two limbs off a boy before stabbing him thrice in the stomach? When did it happen? Why did it happen? How did it happen?

There were so many questions left reciprocated but Jean felt that all would be unveiled in due time. Perhaps, when he was feeling better, the teenager would help them out with their investigations by answering a few of their queries. That is, if he actually spoke; a boy that had gone through a trauma such as that may not feel secure enough to talk, or maybe he may not be able to talk at all. Either way, it would be a difficult task to get some answers from that teenager when he eventually stirred from his synthetic slumber.

"Nah, not really," Charlie responded, as Kai shifted from the chair and moved past Jean silently to go make the coffee. "I pity him, y'know. Not that I'm supposed to, because I've dealt with kids with life-changing wounds such as this before, though they weren't as severe... but I really do feel sorry for the kid. He has to deal with missing limbs, blindness and mental disorders for a long while, and he can't be more then fourteen by the looks of him." The man ran a hand through his messy black hair and adjusted his glasses as he followed Jean's gaze.

"What're you going to do with him? _When_ he's used to the blindness and the missing limbs and the mental disorders?" Jean asked softly, moving to seat himself where Kai once been sat in. The man forced himself to substitute the word 'if' to 'when' in order to convey a weak sense of positivity. "Are you going to get him automail?"

"Really, it depends on how secure his physiological state and possible motives are. With the prospect of automail surgery on the horizon, it is difficult to tell whether he really needs it or not. Sometimes, amputees don't want the trauma of automail surgery and are perfectly happy in staying in a wheelchair or remaining one-armed for the rest of their lives. Though, those people are folks without motives in life. They're perfectly content in doing nothing and feel they're finished with what they wanted to do with the rest of their time alive."

Charlie stooped to put something away before continuing in a unchangeable tendency. "But because of the teenager's youthful age, he may have something he wants to do, or maybe he has someone he wants to find. It's his choice whether he wants automail or not - if so, we'll find an automail surgeon in somewhere where it is warmer and more easy to transport supplies and such. Rush Valley, or maybe that place in Resembool run by some folks called the Rockbells. They're both good places, or so I've heard, so either will do. If not, we'll settle him with a wheelchair. Simple. Any more questions?"

"Why do you have to stay awake in automail surgery? Couldn't you just sedate him so it's painless for him...?"Jean glanced at the teenager again, though this time he seemed more mystified rather than looking outwardly apprehensive.

"No. You have to be aware so that you can tense your muscles when need be. Otherwise, his ports will be damaged and he'll be in pain for even longe-" But Charlie was unexpectedly cut off by the moderate pattering of footsteps and the sound of the door tapping against the wall as it swung open. Expecting it to be Kai with their mugs of coffee, Jean was about to loudly greet the man and his dark ponytail, but the sound of a voice he really didn't want to hear stopped him from doing so.

"Hello Charlie, hello... Havoc," Roy Mustang greeted tiredly, stepping into the infirmary ward with a apprehensive idiom on his usually-dangerous visage. He was only half-dressed; his white tank top was all he wore on his top half, revealing a toned build and muscled arms criss-crossed with a few random scars, clear against the unblemished surface of his skin. As a source of decency, he wore his lower military attire and his thick winter boots, though they were not buckled up with the belt like they usually were. It was like the Colonel had just climbed out of bed (the way raven hair was tousled and his onyx eyes were bleary with sleep didn't disprove the suspicion).

"Good morning, Colonel Mustang. I would offer you coffee, but Kai has gone to get some and he won't be back for another few minutes because our coffee machine is pretty worn down from over-use," Charlie welcomed tightly, his formal tone slipping back behind his words. The man looked more uneasy about speaking to someone as high-ranked as a Colonel rather than a Second Lieutenant; sometimes Feury did the same when he had first became a Sergeant, and a lot of the privates did it when only walking past someone as low as a Warrant Officer. It was like being in the presence of someone higher than you made you an automatic peasant or something like that.

"Havoc-" the Flame Alchemist began.

But the blonde interrupted Roy with a sharp glower. "Why are you even looking at me? Aren't I too _no-good_ and _worthless_ for your eyes?" he hissed lowly, without really thinking about what he was doing. The Colonel drew backwards vaguely, looking alarmed at how his subordinate had spoken to him - it was most likely how out of character Jean was unexpectedly acting that surprised the man.

Meanwhile, Charlie was leaning against the counter, his icy blue eyes passing between both of them with an eyebrow raised. Roy seemed to take no notice of him now and continued, staring at Jean straight in the eye. "I... I didn't mean it," he responded distantly, then added considerable strength into his words, "Havoc, you know how crabby I get when I'm exhausted! Of course I never meant any of it!"

"It sure _sounded_ like you meant it!" Jean snarled, "you've just been bottling it up, waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of me, haven't you?!" His voice had amplified without him even realizing and Charlie actually winced, before uncomfortably going and pretending to adjust the heart monitor's settings. Jean regarded his awkwardness out of the corner of his line of vision, but he was mostly intent on Roy, who had his eyes narrowed suspiciously at his subordinate.

"We had just trekked through a mountain blizzard, found a half-dead teenager and carried him back through said blizzard. I had to donate a whole damn pint of blood and stab the kid with anesthetics _and_ I had to do a bunch of paperwork. That was all in one day, Havoc! I was crabby and exhausted!" the man exploded, his voice even louder than Jean's. Charlie was getting more and more frantic about something as their argument fell into full force but neither soldiers took notice of his state.

"You can't even call me by my first name! Havoc this, Havoc that. My name is Jean, for fucks sake!" the blonde growled, "or maybe I'm too _useless_ to be called by my first name!" Successfully, the blonde managed to take his voice into a fully-fledged yell that made both Roy and Charlie gawk at him in dismay at his behavior. Though, the latter of the two said nothing, while it just seemed to provoke Roy even more.

"For _fucks_ sake, I call everyone at work by their last names! Breda, Hawkeye, Falman, Feury, even Armstrong! It's never bothered you before-" Roy's voice had matched Jean's amplification perfectly, but he was promptly interrupted by a shaky voice and a rapid beeping noise from one corner of the room, followed by an audible cluttering of opening draws. Both Colonel and Lieutenant spun to face the commotion to see a bewildered Charlie, fumbling over a needle full to the brink of the familiar clear substance of anesthetics.

But Roy seemed to gasp at something, and what he was gasping _at_ attacked Jean all at once.

There, screaming through a hastily-tied gag on the infirmary bed and yanking at the restraints that kept him from hurting someone, sat the teenager, golden-grey eyes wide in a frightened blend of desperate plea and pure, hard terror.

"He's awake!"

.

 _Someone was moving him._

 _He didn't know why, and he didn't know who._

 _He couldn't open his eyes. If he could, he wouldn't see them anyway._

 _He was cold, colder than he had been before._

 _But something warm was pressed up against him. He didn't move away from it._

* * *

 _well, this chapter was kind of plain and I think it was badly written. it keeps the story moving, so whatever. it's boring. wow. who knew._

 _ **fact:** I am your classic nerd/geek, anti-social, people-hater, tumblr-user, anime-lover piece of emo trash who loves bands, foods and staying inside all day doing no physical activity whatsoever. I will literally punch you if you insult the very few friends I have and I wear a constant glare. whoops, I'm an introvert too. heh._

 _regarding reviews... boring? interesting? bad? good? amazing? intense? TELL ME! reviews are like oxygen and I love them - they encourage an author to write because they know that the story is loved. flames will be used to roast marshmallows, then laughed at, so you can flame if you want. I don't really care about flames a whole lot. not as much as Roy does *groaning in the background*_

 _thanks for reading and have a good day  
\- **royalvite**._


	7. chapter 06: awake

_hello, hello, hello!  
_ _thanks for the a MAIZEing reviews (if anyone gets the reference I love you), they really made my day._

 ** _arrowriver:_** _ahh I can't wait to write that part... thanks for the review!_

 ** _Quiet Leaf:_** _aha! you caught my sneaky spoiler! (;_

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _hmm..._ _I would have called my chapter anything but intense... but thank you anyway! and yayyyy, we had Ed's POV... briefly. woo. \o/_

 ** _lilaclily00:_** _EMPHASIS._

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _thank you so much... and I'm going to copy you this one time. XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD (your reviews in a sentence. lmao. XD)_

 ** _Guest:_** _*opens marshmallow packet* I had no internet to research and it didn't occur to me to do it when I posted this at my friend's house, using their wifi..._

 ** _DamenTheDiamond:_** _thank you so much, fam. (: glad you didn't leave me and this story~!_

 _ **ghosteez:** thank you!_

 _and sorry about the lateness, my internet is down so I have to write the chapter and then upload it as quickly as I can with my friend's internet, before they get home from work. therefore, I cannot do any research, so I do apologize if any facts are off.  
_

 _thanks for reading and reviews are like oxygen,  
\- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

 _( awake )_

.

"He's awake!"

Immediately, the quarrel was dropped and the room was overwhelmed with a sense of panic - Charlie urgently attempted to clean the sedation needle but he found he was unable to as the source of their alarm reacted to the sudden crash of emotion and trauma. The teenager's unseeing blend of distant grey and molten gold were wide in anguish and his frail left arm wrenched at the leather straps that held him to the hospital bed, a sobbing scream breaking through the gradually-loosening gag that Charlie had secured around his head the moment he noticed he was waking up so he had something to bite on, should he feel any severe pain.

It looked to be doing nothing; the moment Roy thought this, the gag untied itself and fell to the floor. A look of faint regret briefly touched Charlie's face, as if realizing that the gag really wasn't required, but no one made a comment. _Where's Kai?_ the Colonel couldn't help but think, biting his lip as he threw a glance to the unmoving door, half expecting the familiar man and his mahogany ponytail to cannonball into the room.

He really wished he would, now. Kai was a surgeon, after all - he'd know what to do.

Charlie threw the rag he had been using to the ground, dumping the needle onto a random medical cart as he grasped the fact that he didn't need it whatsoever. There was no point in sedating him anymore, unless he began growing dangerous to his or another's health and safety. They couldn't keep him asleep forever, after all. "I don't need that," the medical assistant mumbled absently, "I don't know how to use it..."

Roy wasn't sure what to do with himself. There wasn't much he knew in the field of medical information - not even medical alchemy - and, while he was sure that Charlie needed a little help, he didn't want to throw himself in and end up accidentally messing something up. Briefly, the Flame Alchemist pondered over rushing out to get Jordan from his dorm, but thought against it a moment after.

Meanwhile, Havoc seemed to have melted into one of the chairs and appeared beleaguered about the current situation. He had his forehead resting against his hand, watching the predicament unfold through isolated grey eyes. At first it was unclear of what he was feeling, but Roy soon realized how exhausted the blonde must feel, what with their petty hostility and lack of a proper night's sleep as well as perturbing over the anonymous child. How he could behave so calmly on the external side in their state of affairs, Roy would never know; he wasn't entirely as composed himself.

The teenager's cries of terror and distress weren't helping, either. For such a fragile body, he had an incredibly audible voice, but understandably so. He was most likely unaware of where he was and he couldn't see in order to confirm safety - of course, he'd be frightened and desperate to escape, especially with the binds. Although, the gag seemed to launch into place eventually, when the boy's shrieking died down to little more than strained whimpers, probably from lack of vigor. His teeth clamped onto the material but his arm still tugged at the restraint, as if testing his limits with the leather straps and their competence.

"The restraints..." Charlie began suddenly, "that's what is scaring him. I thought that it wasn't a good idea from the beginning, but Takashi threatened to beat me into a pulp if I didn't put them on..." He moved himself to the side of the hospital bed smoothly, calmly. The teenager appeared to hear his footsteps - he made them audible purposefully so he could detect where he was, Roy noticed briefly - and his unseeing eyes followed the medical assistant around the room with nerving accuracy. His breathing was hitched and it grew more rapid with every noise he heard, suggesting his panic.

"Take them off," Roy said quietly, not really saying it as an order and more as a soft request. Besides, he had no right to command Charlie or anyone in Briggs other than Havoc. In reaction to his voice the teenager gripped the leather restraint more and his breathing turned to the beginnings of hyperventilation. It was clear that he was frightened, but was unable to react with more than what he currently presented them with - like one of those miniature panic attacks you get when you get yelled at, except multiplied by _infinity_.

Charlie didn't reply. Instead, his icy blue eyes were fixated on the restraint; Roy could see that he was making sure he didn't touch the teenager whatsoever as he unbuckled the leather and released it from his grasp. The boy's wrist pulled upwards and he jarred away from where Charlie was sat, his sightless gold and grey eyes wide in anxiety and disclosure. At first, Roy was sure he was going to leap out of the bed and make a break for it, but he was quick to remember that he couldn't exactly go anywhere with only two limbs on his frail body.

"You weren't lying, Roy," Charlie commented as he audibly walked around the bed, adjusting several machines and putting things away as he went, "he really is blind. The grey haze in his eyes is a dead giveaway." The teenager visibly stiffened as soon as he said the word 'blind' and his eyes widened a fraction as he subconsciously kneaded his fingers against his stomach. Silently, Roy glanced at Jean, who had stood up and was now staring at the patient in what appeared to be mild shock and curiosity.

"He's calmed down," the emotionally-absent blonde observed, his tone quiet.

The teenager's unseeing gaze fixated in his general direction and his breathing quickened by little more than a fraction, visibly nervous by the unfamiliar presences in the room. Mutely, Roy studied the quivering boy, his onyx eyes soft as he took in his condition. The fact that he was missing his arm (and his leg, but the leftover appendage was so slender from lack of nutrition that you could barely see the difference in the lumps on the green bed sheets) was painfully obvious now he was slightly aware and it made him appear small and helpless, accompanying the anxious expression and frightened, sightless golden-grey eyes. They were glazed over and dull, the fog in his molten irises protruding even more from the clash of the molten gold speckles that briefly scattered parts of his optics.

The bruises hadn't faded as of yet; they still contrasted with the pallor pastiness of his battered skin, splashing the areas around his wide, sightless eyes and his temples in colours of crimson, ugly purple and yellow. There was little Jordan's medical unit could do about those and they would simply have to wait for them to taper into nothing. Meanwhile, those minor slices in his skin had faded, and there was no doubt that they wouldn't scar like those cuts on his jawline had. The Colonel had a feeling the scars he currently possessed wouldn't go for a long while yet.

Luckily, the teenager didn't seem as panicked as he had been when he had been restrained. A nagging feeling at the back of his mind told Roy that, while at the hands of whoever had dealt this damage to him, he had been bound and/or gagged at some point. He hadn't noticed them before, but when he checked, he did see faint scars in a circle around his thin wrist that did nothing to deny the Colonel's secret suspicions.

The medical assistant had something in his hand now - a diminutive whiteboard, a rag and a non-permanent marker. Roy and Jean both cocked an eyebrow in unison and the black-haired younger man only beamed before scribbling something onto the whiteboard's surface.

 _Come outside - he's calm enough to be left alone and we'll hear him if he tries anything anyway._

Roy tapped the door open with his foot, motioning into the corridor with his head. Once they were all collected awkwardly in a silent hall, he tilted the door closed so as to mask their conversation from the teenager. After all, once you lose one sense, your others heighten. No doubt that his hearing would be included.

"This is like a cult meeting," Jean remarked as an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but he only received a 'seriously?' glare from Charlie, who suddenly looked so somber that it didn't match his features as much as his smile had. The blonde raised his hands, trying to prove his innocence through the motion though to no avail.

"On more reasonable matters... I needed to warn you two about something." The man had his hands clasped together, his frosty sapphire eyes moving between the two of them constantly. "Now, I'm sure you're intelligent enough to realize this, but now he's awake and seemingly aware that he has been moved from wherever you found him, we'll be stepping on broken glass. Which means, we'll have to all behave very, very carefully when we're in that room... especially with his blindness and all. That'll make it even more difficult."

"I saw what you were doing when going to remove his restraints. Making a lot of noise with your feet, so he knew where you were. Smart," Roy said with a near-impressed smile toward the younger man, who shrunk under his gaze and nervously grinned in response. "I suppose we'll all have to do the same, then? Stepping heavier so he can detect us when we move? It only makes sense."

"Yes, we'll have to just that. As well as that, I wouldn't touch him yet, not unless he either gives you permission or he thinks he is safe with us. If he wants to touch your face, hands or anywhere else - as long as it isn't... _sexual_ (Jean snickered at this) - let him," Charlie informed them, adjusting his glasses and smiling faintly at the Lieutenant and the Colonel. "Also, I wouldn't be loud or make sudden noises, either. Startling him or frightening him may trigger God knows what, with his possible mental conditions and all..."

"Oh, I understand," Jean piped up, "but, tell me this; why do we have to let him touch our faces and such? Why would that benefit his healing and his health?"

The black-haired man wrinkled his nose, humming in thought at the blonde's reasonable query. "It's a common habit we have found in patients who suffer from blindness," he began certainly, "because they can't exactly see you, they sometimes find it comforting to feel out your features and they will be occupied in trying to figure out what you look like. It isn't abnormal, just something the blind seemed to have developed."

"Are there any other habits we should know about that he may have?" Roy inquired. He didn't want to accidentally yell at the teenager from being exasperated at a tendency he contracted from the trauma and he knew that it would be easier if they knew the possible routines he could expand. That way, they may be able to identify what his emotions were and know just what he was feeling, if any habits happened to be triggered by certain sentiments. It just seemed logical.

Charlie paused apprehensively. "That really depends on the person, what they experienced and how they deal with emotions, pain and other things. I've known one patient of mine - who went through a trauma not quite as severe as what the kid went through - who despised silence and always began tapping at something or rather to fill the quiet. That urbanized because of the experience he fought through. I've never individually had to deal with the symptoms of someone who lost limbs, or got stabbed in the stomach, but I can guess some possible phobias."

"Such as?" Jean urged edgily.

"Um... fear of pointy instruments such as needles or knives, perhaps? I'm not sure whether he may develop it but it is very much possible - it's difficult to tell right about now. When he was screaming about being injected with the sedatives-" he looked at Roy with a stabbing gaze, "-he was most likely terrified because he was bound down and he was somewhere he didn't recognize. I wasn't sure whether he had just developed a phobia or not. Now he's awake and more aware, it'll make it a bit easier for us to identify these symptoms.

"Another thing that is known to teenagers with PTSD - I have no doubts that he'll have developed it - is his temper. When he's a little less weak and frail, he'll be stressed and will most likely get severely angry over small things. If he screams at you, or calls you bad things, or anything else on that subject, I don't want you shouting back. That wouldn't help his mental health in the least. If anything, it'll dent his recovery time. Just know that it's normal for them to develop a sensitive temper and it shouldn't remain forever, hopefully."

Both Colonel and Lieutenant pondered this possibility. "What _do_ we do if he shouts at us?" Jean asked genuinely.

"Calm him down. Give him nice, calming words," Charlie responded patiently. "On the topic of PTSD, if he has a flashback-"

"Tell them they're having a flashback and that even though it feels real, it's not actually happening again. Remind them of their surroundings. Encourage steady breathing. Avoid anything that may startle or frighten them. We know the deal," Roy took a deep breath, "you have no idea how many times I've had to sort out a PTSD flashback with some of my coworkers at Central and Eastern command." Pointedly, the Colonel glanced at Jean, who refused to meet his gaze and sulkily looked away from his superior.

Charlie appeared to notice the tense atmosphere between the two and a short grin graced his lips. "I knew I could trust you two. We'll need your help with helping this boy out. When I was driving the ambulance out to you guys, I could see that the teenager was practically leaning into you even from far away. Even if he was just trying to warm up subconsciously, it's a start, and it's the most progress we've gained." He paused, looking between the two with a knowing sparkle in his clear blue eyes.

"Now," he began cheekily, "I want you two to make up while I get Jordan out of bed. Bye~!" With that, the warm-hearted young man grinned happily at them and promptly disappeared down a quiet corridor.

Leaving them in pure, dead silence.

It was awkward.

Jean knew it.

Roy knew it.

But neither of them did anything about it for a good two minutes.

Until, the Colonel decided to be the bigger man of them both, and opened his mouth to speak. "Jean," he began tiredly, "before you cut me off, let me speak." He swallowed - he couldn't believe that he was denting his pride like this, though he knew it was required. "Yesterday, when I shouted at you and insulted you? I... that was out of order, and I know it. Hell, I knew it the moment I said it."

The blonde looked up, his stormy grey eyes uncertain and fierce as he pulled a fresh cigarette packet from his pocket. "Then why _did_ you say it?" he inquired, sounding completely out of character, "why did you say it if you knew it was out of order?" Absently, he slid the cigar between his lips and pulled out the lighter that Roy had handed to him a while back. For a moment, he seemed to observe his superior as if expecting him to yank the lighter right from his hands, but Roy did nothing to stop the blonde from lightning the fag and instead responded to the question.

"I was stressed," he replied, "I was stressed, exhausted and three hundred percent ready to go home and hibernate from humanity for a good few years. I didn't think before I said it and you know as well as I do that you're one of my most talented and valuable soldiers in my unit, Havoc." Upon speaking the man's name, Roy hummed thoughtfully. "And the last name thing... they drilled it into you at the military academy, Havoc. Us soldiers call everyone by their last names, you should know that. Did you just forget, or what?"

Levelly, Roy watched Jean's expression grow uncertain and grey eyes met his own dark ones. Somewhere, there was a defeated sense of apology in his gaze, but Roy could see that the blonde didn't like ruining his pride nearly as much as Roy - despite his ego being considerably smaller (everyone knew it) than his superior's, Jean could be rather prideful at the worst of times.

"I... uh... it's pretty much the same reason as you. I wasn't thinking straight and it must've slipped my mind... pfft, I'm so stupid sometimes." Jean took a long drag from the cigarette and blew out the smoke through his nostrils. "I'm sorry too, Boss. Friends?"

Roy snorted. "I wouldn't say _friends_..." he joked weakly, earning a faint laugh from the younger man. Of course, he didn't mean it - they were good friends, despite Roy being in charge of Jean almost all the time. Just because one of them was superior to the other didn't mean that they had to treat each other like it. It was the same kind of relationship that Roy had with Maes - though he was closer to the latter than he was to Jean, for they had been through Hell and back together again and again and again.

"That was easier then I expected..." Jean commented, "... I can tell that you didn't like hurting your pride, Boss." He smirked cockily, as if he had cracked the best joke in Amestrian history.

The Colonel made a humorous whimper and rubbed at his arm subconsciously. "It's dented, to say the least," he responded, his voice quiet in mock-embarrassment, "if you tell anyone at Central that I actually showed some sort of emotion, you will literally become ashes in your sleep." To aid his fake threat in its effectiveness, he sent the blonde a half-hearted, yet chilling glare; Jean didn't even flinch, used to the cold glowers by now.

"It's not like they'd believe me..." he trailed off sheepishly, "they'd accuse me of lying. Speaking of the team... when are they coming down and what're they doing when they get here?"

"The team, Hughes, the forensics unit and the investigation unit are coming down here later on in the week. Forensics and investigation will be moving straight to the scene of the crime once they are settled down into a spare set of dorms. The team will be doing the same thing, though they will be coming here and getting an idea of the situation beforehand. Hughes will be expected down at the crime scene with forensics and investigation. Clear?" Roy relayed all he could remember off the top of his head to his subordinate, his face held in an expression of thought.

"I don't want to imagine what it would be like if Armstrong was here." Havoc made a face and barked out an amused laugh. The Colonel chuckled too, his onyx eyes alight with traces of happiness. It was relaxing to know that Jean had forgiven him for his earlier outburst and that the argument hadn't lasted as long as Roy had originally thought; a big plus was that Jean never held a grudge for more than a week. In other words, he was very absolving and always allowed one a second chance, even if they had emotionally hurt him.

Stretching, Roy said, "he'd end up crushing the kid and probably traumatizing him even more..." Obviously, it was a joke, but he nearly snorted when he realized that it was actually a very acute possibility. He was just about to crack a (crap) joke about the major's rather startling stripping habits, when an upset growl intervened with his train of thought. The Colonel glanced down at his stomach and made an uncomfortable face, before his gaze met a pair of stormy grey eyes, where a sheet of laughter layered over the burning colour.

"Hungry, Boss?"

His face pressed into a brilliant shade of red. "Yeah..." he responded; it suddenly occurred to him that they hadn't eaten since they had arrived in the ice-cold Northern areas of Amestris and that he was so hungry, he could probably eat not a horse, but a full-on fucking _elephant_. "I don't think we should move as of yet. We should wait until one of the medical team members come - we don't know whether they need us or not."

Jean rolled his eyes. "You're a _Colonel_ , Boss. _You_ order _them_ around, _they_ don't order _you_ around," he grumbled, subconsciously rubbing his stomach. It was clear that the Second Lieutenant was just as hungry as his superior, if not more, and it was making him seem slightly crabby. Not to mention the fact that their throats were most likely dry from lack of hydration and they still haven't gone to the toilet yet (somehow).

"But I'm not authorized to treat them as if they work under me, because they don't," he reasoned, challenging Jean's glare with one of his own.

Jean opened his mouth, but an excitable voice and rapid footsteps cut him off. A ginger blur passed by and rammed the door to the teenager's infirmary ward open, briefly saying, "he's awake?! Why didn't you tell me?!" before the figure disappeared. Sharing a look with his subordinate, Roy mumbled ' _Jordan_ ' to the blonde, before they were invited inside by an exasperated Charlie.

.

 _That constant beeping noise... it's pissing me off._

Carefully, he tilted his head, trying to figure out what was causing the repetitive sound. Whatever it was, he wanted to punch it.

But another thought popped into his head, just then, as he decided the source's fate.

He was right-handed, and he knew that meant he swung a punch with his right hand just as well as he knew how to count to ten.

Tensing, he rolled his left fingers and shifted his left wrist. That blasted restraint wasn't attached anymore - an unidentified silhouette had taken it off, before everything had gone silent. Presumably, everybody had exited the room and left him alone in his alien location.

Slowly, his left hand moved to where he knew his right should be, biting his lip as he felt nothing but a thickly-wrapped gauze that layered over his battered shoulder. He followed the path of the bandages, feeling his breath quicken when he realized that he was topless as he rubbed his thumb over where the binding ended at his bruised hipbone. That meant...

 _That meant that they had taken the knives out._

Sightless eyes glanced down at his torso and his left hand followed, fingering the bandages that entrapped his stomach. There was nothing protruding from his skin like before; he had felt them before the door in wherever he had been before slammed open and made him pass out (was that what happened? He couldn't see it). _Who were the people who had taken me from that Hell hole?_

Voices. He heard voices, and a door touching the wall as it gently swung open. "He's finally awake!"

He froze.

 _He_ was here. _He_ was here, here to hurt him and beat him and torture him and abuse him and - dare he think it- rape him like _he_ had been here to do before. _He_ was here again to morph his life into a pit of pain and sorrow.

 _Oh Truth. Truth. Truth. Truth. Truth. He's here. He's here. He's here. What do I do?!_

"He looks..." a beat of silence, only interrupted by that rapid beeping. _What was that?_ "Is he okay, Jordan? Charlie? He doesn't look okay..."

"He can't see us, Havoc. He's scared of us."

 _Truth. Truth. Truth. Truth. Truth. He's here..._

 _What could I do... what could I do..._

 _I know. I know how to escape from him._

 _Run._

.

The moment they - Jean, Roy, Jordan and Charlie - stepped into the infirmary ward, the Colonel immediately noted the fact that he was poking the bandages that wrapped the previous knife wounds on his stomach with his left fingers. They were shaking ever so slightly and his expression was subconsciously questioning, as if he were mentally debating just who had cleaned him up and why they had done so.

But his sightless eyes were looking up at them now, the traumatized sheet that glassed over his golden-grey eyes expressing nervousness and a clear hint of terror. For a moment, Roy's heart broke in two; he looked positively broken now that he was more, the dark purple smudges under his unseeing eyes contrasting against the pale waxiness of his skin and his hair that should have been a bright cornflower yellow being a dull, lifeless blonde. Something under his dead gaze reached out to Roy - he recognized that expression clear as broad daylight.

 _Intelligence._

Despite how damaged and tortured he really was, the quiet teenager's astuteness really did shine through like rays of golden sunlight breaking through minuscule gaps in a broken, fog-layered mountain valley. It mutely startled Roy, but he made no comment on the matter and instead set his onyx gaze onto Jordan as his freckled face broke out into a contented beam.

"He's finally awake!" the ginger announced, as if no one in the room knew it before. Charlie gave his superior a bitter glare, silently scolding him for his sharp audibility, but Jordan took no notice and simply waved him off with a lazy expression. Visibly, the mystery teenager froze and his left fingers tensed in his lap. Roy didn't know what he was thinking, or what he thought of the current situation, but he did know one thing; he was petrified. At what, he didn't know for sure, but he had a pretty good idea anyway.

Before he could speak, his blonde subordinate spoke out his thoughts for him. "He looks..." he paused, sucking in a deep breath and looking suspiciously at the heart monitor, "is he okay, Jordan?" Stormy grey eyes looked at Charlie, who met the gaze with an uncomfortable look of his own. "Charlie? He doesn't look okay..." Jean's hands were running through his hair now, a motion that Roy had begun to associate with his nerves.

In order to console him, Roy gave Jean a half-hearted, awkward smile, barely holding the genuine charm that usually entrapped his grins. "He can't see us, Havoc. He's scared of us," he drilled softly, trying not to startle him. It appeared that his attempts had no effect and the teenager jolted slightly, his unseeing eyes flickering toward the source of his noise wearily.

Charlie made an audible sigh before moving closer, being sure that his footsteps were louder than usual. Unexpectedly, however, the teenager didn't follow him with his gaze like he had done every time before; instead, he did something much more unforeseen.

 _He ran._

At least, he tried to, anyway.

No one had time to react, it had all happened so fast.

An arc of sterile green blankets flung abruptly off the kid's lap and fell in a careless pile on the left side of the bed, knocking a random machine to the floor and sending a loud crash resounding through the room. This was what broke Roy out of his shocked trance and he let out a gasp, instinctively rushing forward only to get shoved out of the way by Jordan. As the Colonel caught himself from landing on the floor with his hands, he watched out of the corner of his eye as-

"He's getting out of the bed?!" Charlie observed, clearly panicked by the predicament. Jean's expression matched the medical assistants'; fear, concern and obvious alarm. Unphased by his shout, the teenager didn't hesitate to roll out of the bed and he did so with a startling level of energy despite most likely lacking a lot of it. His right foot touched the floor and he levered himself upright...

Of course, he forgot to account for the fact that _he only had one leg_ , and one leg meant _no mobility whatsoever_.

From a lack of the required limb, the petite teenager crumpled to the floor in a helpless heap and released a strained shriek as Jordan's hands grasped his wrist and torso. The ginger's expression was grim and he was visibly attempting to be as gentle as he unceremoniously dumped the kid back onto the bed. Struggling and sobbing against the older man's touch, the child tried his best to pull away and make another break for it, but Jordan was stubbornly resilient and didn't release him.

 _Charlie_ , _the restraints_ , he mouthed to his subordinate, who grimaced and moved to proceed with the order.

"I'm sorry," Jordan mumbled softly, as he watched the teenager let out a cry of objection at the leather straps entrapping his wrists and holding him to the bed. "We can't have you hurting yourself if you try to get away again..."

* * *

 _well... I have a feeling that this isn't as well-written as I could have hoped, but I think it will have to do until I begin to go through all of my chapters and edit them all. just a reminder: I don't have a beta-reader and I don't intend to have one anytime soon, unless I think I really, really need one~!_

 ** _fact:_** _I'm righthanded... special..._

 _regarding reviews... awesome? good? intense? bad? tell me! I've decided flames are allowed and they will be thoroughly laughed at and/or used to roast my marshmallows. more detailed reviews give me more insight on what you think than a one liner, but everything is welcome!  
_ _also, tell me if you like my OCs (Jordan, Charlie, Kai, Takashi, Jake) and what you like about them, because they are going to be required in the story (though they are not main characters!)._

 _thank you so much for reading,  
\- **royalvite**._


	8. chapter 07: cloak

_hello, hello, hello!  
_ _wow, those were some of the nicest reviews I've ever received! they made me smile like crazy!_

 ** _arrowriver:_** _thank you very much!_

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _aha, you're getting suspicious of a certain little ginger doctor... (; and thanks for the review~!_

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _that was the first resolution I thought of XD here's your update!_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD_

 ** _lilaclily00:_** _that makes me feel better. thanks, fam!_

 ** _Rage0fPheonix:_** _HERE YOU GO_

 ** _Guest:_** _*strokes Jordan and smirks at you*_

 _ **lexieconextreme:** wow, thank you so much. you actually made me squeal~!_

 _and for some reason I can't read my PMs so I can't check whether you'd like me to do that plot bunny some of you know I suggested. ah, I'll try again after this is posted..._

 _hope you enjoy and I love reviews,  
\- _**_royalvite_** _._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

 _( cloak )_

.

 _It have been late at night, for there was no light streaming through the spiderweb cracks in the walls. There was none of that familiar sound - the sound he had grown to find comfort in. The sound that snow made as it pelted the sagging ceiling had been the only thing keeping him near sanity, but now it was gone, he could feel the tense silence worming into his battered bones like a maggot in a moulded apple._

 _His clarity had returned since his last_ _punishment_ _and with clarity came the realization that he was going to die soon. From bloodloss or starvation, he didn't know, but it was the inevitable truth that he had been forced to burden. It shook him to the core just thinking about his foreboding end - not that he was already shaken from everything else._

 _He hadn't seen_ him _for a while. It had been at least a day by now. The bruises - they must have gone an ugly purple by now - ached just in memory of_ him _and his favourite 'toys'. In no way did he miss_ him _; no, just the thought of_ him _triggered unimaginable nightmares; but_ his _nonattendance meant that he didn't get anything to eat that day. Not that he got a lot when his weekly mealtime came around, but it was less than nothing he supposed._

 _Something in his brain tickled his nerves and he shuddered against the corner, ghosting his arm over those red whip lashes underneath his tattered black shirt. Just feeling the deep, bleeding dents they made in his battered skin brought back memories, but it interrupted the icy, unforgiving fingers that grabbed at his senses._

 _He knew that_ he _was coming back. It was like a sixth sense, almost, one he had developed early last month... or was it yesterday? He never really kept track of the time, only the routine of night and day. At first, he had managed to keep track of the hour, but as days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and months turned to years, it got lost between the torrents of torturous pain and the sanity that was trickling away from him second by second._

 _Footsteps. He could hear them crossing the wooden porch, see the shadows under the door shifting through the flickering yellow light._ He _must have a lantern with him._

 _A voice, now, one he recognized. Pillars of fear shot through his mind and he felt his limbs go numb, succumbing him to the agony he knew was coming. Whimpering like the pathetic baby_ he _had often told him he was, he pressed against the icy corner, trying to keep himself as hidden as possible through the darkness. But it was no use - as the door swung open and the lantern's light streamed across the floor, his position was given away._

 _"Hello, Eddy!"_ he _shrilled brightly. The lantern's flame didn't reach his face, but his hair instead - messy and ginger. It had grown shorter over the time he had been trapped here, he had noticed a few times before._

 _But he didn't think about this now. All he could think about was the little vile_ he _held in his hand, and the colourless liquid inside of it. It was his next torture device and he knew what it was upon seeing the label on the glass - H2SO4._

 _Sulfuric_ _acid._

 _"Are you not going to say hello to me, Eddy?"_

 _He didn't respond. His vocal cords had given up a long time ago from screaming too loudly. All he could do was croak and whimper in response._

 _"Ah, no matter. I have a special little present for you."_ He _stooped, placing the lamp beside him. A hand reached for his face and he wanted to move - oh, how much he wanted to scream and shout and jump up to run away - but his limps didn't listen to him, as if frozen along with the deserted wasteland around him. "Such beautiful eyes,"_ he _slurred, the lantern's light reflecting off his teeth as a smirk slid onto his face, "gorgeous and golden. No light or life to ruin that delightful dull colour. Oh, the pain in your gaze - it puts shivers down my spine. Stunning."_

 _He remained silent, his shuddering breathing teetering onto the brink of hyperventilation. Fingers ghosted along his cheeks, stroking the bruises. The contact sent flares of pain and terror through his body but he could do nothing to stop it. "Those marks... they're going to fade. I'll have to re-claim that beautiful face of yours." The vile made a gentle 'tink' noise as it touched the floor and suddenly,_ his _head grew closer._

His _lips pressed against his own and he made a raspy noise of protest, attempting to pull away. However the enemy mouth forced pressure onto his own, disabling his movement and leaving him weakly succumbed against the stronger. "Now now, Eddy,"_ he _goaded into the forced kiss, "we don't need you escaping from me. You're mine, remember?"_

His _tongue battled with his own and he shivered at the very sensation, his cry of protest muffled by the other's mouth as they nipped forcefully against his own. One invading hand snaked up his tattered shirt and another moved up his thigh toward his crotch. In a blind fleet of panic and terror, he clamped his teeth down on the older's tongue and_ he _pulled the contact away, releasing an angry snarl._

 _Though he was weak and shaken, his glare still flared with defiant fire. For a moment,_ he _payed no attention to him, but those glorious seconds were forgotten as he met his victim's glower with a dark, merciless one of his own. In the dim lighting the lantern gave him, those sharp grey eyes were alight with pure, hot anger._ _Another shudder shook his body._

 _"Eddy... you're not supposed to bite, yet... that's for later..."_ he _purred seductively. "But, you hurt me, and you drew blood... I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this to you..."_

He _picked up the vile from the floor and put it closer to his eyes. "You know what this is, don't you? I can see it in those intelligent eyes of yours. Sulfuric acid... if this was to go in your eyes... well, let's say that you won't have eyes for much longer." He smirked, studying the liquid with his own thunder grey optics. "But this is diluted. Weaker, but still strong enough to blind you permanently."_

 _At that moment, it all became clear. He released a helpless whimper and subconsciously pressed further into the shadowed corner. Those stormy grey eyes were flaring with viscous blood lust as_ his _thumb flicked the vile's lid off the top, causing a faint popping noise and a gentle 'tink' as it fell to the floor, soaking up a small amount of the blood that painted the dark, dirty wood. "I didn't want to do this," he growled, "but you refused by love for that beautiful face of yours... oh how stunning you look, your eyes widened in fear, your face smeared with blood.."_

 _He was frozen in fear as a hand pressed down on his chest, forcing him against the floor. There was nothing he could do -_ his _grasp was too strong for his frail, broken body. Despite knowing this he struggled against_ him _, letting out a strained cry of anguish as he realized what was about to happen. "Easy now, Eddy. You brought this onto yourself, now..."_

 _The vile was tilted, looming over his face, right in his line of vision._ _"Say hello to forever darkness, Eddy..."_ he _muttered, tapping at the glass with his finger. The first drop fell and-_

 _He screamed._

.

"Too bad we had to sedate him again," Jean mumbled, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair and chewing absently at the unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He had to jog to catch up with his black-haired superior and his long, swinging strides that always seemed to be faster than everyone else's walking pace.' "I wonder what triggered him to jump out of the bed?" The younger man pulled out the lighter and moved to put it against the end of his cigarette, only for it to be ripped out of his hand by Roy, who silently passed him an unimpressed glower before sliding it into the pocket of his military uniform.

"I don't know," Roy responded, his voice slow and tired-sounding, "he looked petrified when we came into the room. Jordan must have startled him when he exclaimed that he was awake. Or, perhaps he got scared that we were going to hurt him and tried to run, only to realize that he was unable to as he crumpled to the floor...?"

"Most likely," Jean shrugged loosely. "I'm curious about how he lost his vision."

Roy blinked, not expecting the change of topic so quickly. "I thought of acid at first, but then I thought that no body can be that cruel. I mean, pouring acid into a teenager's eye? I don't think even the grossest, sickest of gross sickos could do that." A yawn shook his body and he diverted his gaze to his shoes, apparantly too lazy to put it anywhere else.

The man was clearly exhausted when you shot even a short glance his way; the dark purple smudges under his eyes contrasted with his pallor skin, onyx optics narrow with that morning grouchiness. Jean couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for his superior, only because it was clear that he really just wanted to sleep. Once or twice, Jordan had questioned whether Roy was overworked from both their current mission and the amount of paperwork he apparantly did back at Central, but Jean had made it clear that he definitely was not timeworn from the formalities he procrastinated off.

"Well, I don't know... counting that someone severed his limbs and stabbed him three times in the stomach..."

Meanwhile, Jean certainly felt that, if his head hit something warm and comfortable, he would be out like a light switch. He could probably hibernate for three hundred years (that was an exaggeration, but still), he felt so tired. But the blonde knew that before either of them could even think about a nap, they should probably eat something and take a shower. They both still stunk distinctly of damp snow and blood, a scent that Jordan had mentioned as he checked on the teenager's wounds while he was sedated.

 _"You guys stink," the ginger snorted, gently peeling back the bandages wrapped around the boy's underfed torso. He held a bottle of disinfectant in one gloved hand, which he sprayed at Roy humorously. "My nose is offended by it. Take a shower."_

It had been a massive chore trying to work the showers. The ones at Central were easier to use - you simply pressed a button, the water would start running and you'd adjust the temperature with a knob. Since they had to avoid the pipes in the showers freezing over at Briggs, you'd be forced to wait half an hour as they heated the water before it would suddenly spray out, scalding hot, and you'd have to turn about fifty knobs to cool it down before you burnt your face off. To say the least, it had taken Jean two hours, and Roy even longer because of his hot (no pun intended) temper towards things that don't work the way he wanted it to.

They were on their way to Northern Headquarter's canteen to get the first meal that they had eaten for a while now. When the teenager had attempted to bail, their hunger had been promptly forgotten, but now the chaos was over it had returned to them. It felt like Jean's stomach was being stabbed with every painful rumble, he was so starving. Hopefully they had better food here at Briggs - Central's mess hall made him feel sick quite often (which is why everyone usually goes out for lunch).

"What're you going to get?" Roy asked as they turned into what they thought was the mess hall.

It wasn't a massive or imposing room - around three times the size of his office, with tan walls, rows of tables and a canteen set up at the very back. There were a couple of soldiers in Briggs uniform here and there, but it was otherwise empty. After all, it was nearly 2 o'clock in the afternoon now, and who ate lunch at that time anymore? Here and there, looks were being thrown their way, most likely because there weren't a lot of Colonels and Lieutenants around North, especially ones well known to be situated at Central Headquarters. Blankly ignoring them, Jean scanned the available food.

"Hmm... I think I'll just have a sandwich. BLT, if you please, and a coffee with milk and one sugar," he informed the portly woman behind the canteen, who just hummed and looked at Roy with expectant green eyes.

"I'll have the same, but make it a black coffee with no sugar, please," the Colonel ordered softly. His voice wavered a little and he put his palm against the canteen, holding his head with the other. Seeing Jean's concerned stare, the man grinned faintly and said, "I feel really lightheaded from lack of food... can we hurry with the BLT sandwiches?" The blonde narrowed his eyes, but did not question the matter further. He'd only get the cold shoulder if he tried to be worried about his superior.

Once they received their meals, they both slid into a table tucked away in the corner, sat opposite from each other. The few antsy privates that had been sat nearby were quick to finish their own late lunch, leaving the two soldiers thankfully isolated in that area of the room. Taking a long, grateful sip of his black coffee, Roy passed Jean a pointed look and said in a low, nearly emotionless tone, "we need to find out where in the world the kid came from." The blonde nodded, unsure of what to do, and listened closely as his superior continued speaking. "We have no leads about his name or family, and won't unless we either ask him - it'll me a while until we can do that, I feel - or we manage to find someone who happens to know him."

Jean ripped a bite off his BLT sandwich in unison with Roy.

The Colonel found it quite funny apparantly and snorted (stylishly) into his steaming coffee.

"Well," Jean began, "when the Investigation and Forensics units arrive, we may be able to find a lead in the crime scene, right? Plus, Jake told me that Charlie had saved that mangled red cloak from a snow mound after you threw it aside, and I thought I saw something on the back of it." He thought back to seeing the hooded cloak hanging on a hidden coat rack in some random corridor. In the torn ribbons of bloodied red, he had spied something black printed onto the crimson material, though he hadn't thought to check what it was exactly. Initially, he had wondered whether it would mean something or not.

"What do you mean by 'something'?" Roy chewed at his sandwich, eyeing the blonde through half-closed lids.

"Like, a symbol." Blowing at his coffee, Jean met his superior's tired gaze. "I can't remember what it looked like exactly, but it could mean something that could lead us somewhere. If it means something, that is. If it's just some cool emo symbol, then it's pretty pointless." Roy cocked an eyebrow and barked a short, wheezing laugh into his steaming coffee cup.

"Do you really think that it would be a 'cool emo symbol'?" he inquired, as if questioning his subordinate's sanity. Silently shrugging, Jean took another bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "Anyway, you have a point. Having a look at that cloak may be the only thing we have before Investigations and Forensics arrive. Good work, Lieutenant." Roy offered his subordinate a half-hearted smile as he sipped his coffee, once again in sync with Jean.

But Jean didn't return the gleeful look. "Boss, I think something fishy is going on," he said seriously.

"Fishy?" Roy repeated, "yeah, there's plenty of fishy business. We have a sicko on the loose and a traumatized teenager to find a home for." His onyx eyes rolled in their sockets, obviously not catching onto his subordinate's sensible atmosphere. But as soon as Jean's stormy grey eyes threw him an unimpressed glare and narrowed into his superior's gaze, the Colonel seemed to notice the seriousness of the conversation and muted his immature persona to change it to his 'this is life changing, fuck off children' one.

"I'm serious, Boss. Something weird is going on... have you noticed the way Jordan behaves around the kid and how he treats him?"

Now that the problem had been explained a little, Roy looked blandly curious, leaning on his elbows and resting his nose against the warm coffee he held in his palms. "Elaborate please, Havoc," he ordered quietly.

"Charlie had told us that if the kiddo panics, we shouldn't scare him further and instead calm him down. When he tried to run it was obvious he was terrified, yet all Jordan did was put restraints on. You could see Charlie was unhappy with his boss's decision, but he was smart enough to know that he couldn't do anything about it. They shouldn't have put those restraints on him, or sedated him. He was scared and all they did was set the problem back by putting him to sleep." Jean took out a cigarette and slipped it between his lips, chewing absently at the tip.

Roy looked thoughtful and concerned at the same time. "I suppose that you do have a point, but we aren't doctors or anything, Havoc. They're the medical team, we're the trained soldiers. They know what they're doing," he said firmly, his brow furrowing, "don't go sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong, Havoc. Remember that. If you do, you could get us in serious trouble with Major General Armstrong."

"I..." Jean went to object, but his words died on his lips and he remained quiet. Roy had a point, but he still wanted to investigate his suspicions.

 _Hypothesis; Jordan has something to do with the kid, and not in a good way._

The blonde sighed and sipped his coffee in unison with Roy.

.

 _What are they all doing?_

Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes narrowed his hazel eyes, hardening his gaze as he swept it over the collection of soldiers crowded in Central's major train station. There were ten of them in total; the four in the Investigation unit, the two in Forensics, three of the four soldiers in Roy Mustang's unit still in Central Headquarters and himself. They were all huddled in a complete clusterfuck, with Hawkeye attempting to keep her closest coworkers in check rather violently (and with too many bullets, unsurprisingly) and a member of the Forensics unit attempting to - rather loudly - explain that they all needed a ticket to Briggs.

The Investigation unit were a mixed bunch and Maes often found himself in their department on things like this. After all, he _was_ in charge of them. There was Eren Keller - an older man with graying brown hair and uninterested coffee-coloured eyes. He may be intelligent, but his knowledge couldn't even begin to compare with that of Vato Falman. Quite often, Maes had to work with Eren, and was bored out of his mind every time. He'd rather be with Roy-Boy or even Jean any day than rather be with Eren.

Randall Ethans was a little more interesting. A young, bright-eyed detective with messy black hair and even darker black eyes, always happy and excited despite being on a serious crime scene. Talking to Randall could be plain sometimes - he'd often accidentally rant on about something, then realize and spend the next ten minutes apologizing - but he was kind and forgiving overall. Maes rather liked him.

The wackiest on the unit was defiantly Alf Samson. He'd come into the Investigation Department singing and whistling as loudly as he skipped through the doors, swinging his bag around and probably smacking something important off the desks in the process. The man's personality matched his appearance, too; dark brunette hair dyed a faint shadowed green, a pair of smiling green eyes behind thin, brown glasses.

Last but certainly not least was Istvan Regland. He was a proud middle-aged man with a six pack that could rival Major Armstrong's and rich tan skin that briefly resembled an Ishvalan's native colouring. In fact, one could mistaken him as a survivor from Ishval if it wasn't for the fact that he had black hair - not white - and ocean blue eyes - not bloody crimson. Sometimes, Istvan could be blandly repulsive, but his intelligence and initiative were too useful for his own good.

Maes had never really talked to Forensics that much, apart from dropping things off their department and their lab. In his defense, he never really needed to. There was a tall, elder man, with gray hair and a firm smile that lit up his dark midnight eyes. Briefly, Maes thought his name was Rui Chou, but he wasn't exactly sure. From what he could see, Rui was a serious, sensitive scientist who was very, very talented at what he did and had hands that could handle the smallest, most delicate of objects - an ability useful for someone who worked in a job such as military Forensics.

The other was called Marco Victor, he knew. A young, friendly man with tousled brown hair, coffee eyes that didn't quite hit the demanding intensity of Hawkeye's own colour and faint freckles smattering his features. He had spoken to Marco a few times and he knew that the youth had a very high IQ of one hundred and ninety two, a score that could be considered genius for someone his age (though, Vato had made sure to tell Marco that his own IQ results had come out as over two hundred - he never liked to be beaten at his own game).

Maes tapped Randall on the shoulder in order to gain his attention. "Have you got the tickets yet?" he inquired seriously, seeming severely out of character. The younger seemed to have noticed this and cocked an eyebrow at his superior, before thrusting ten train tickets into his hands.

"Yessir!" he responded brightly, offering Maes a wide, intelligent grin. "They gave them to us for free - when they realized we were all from the military and doing important militaristic business, they just handed them over without a second thought." Maes chuckled at the young man's friendly behavior, removing his glasses and carefully cleaning the lenses with the bottom of his royal blue jacket.

"Oh, how kindly of him!" the Lieutenant Colonel chirped, then looked over Randall's shoulder at the familiar blonde First Lieutenant standing beside Second Lieutenant Breda and Sargent Fuery. He raised his hand as he called out, "Hawkeye! Gather everybody - we're leaving for Briggs in two!"

.

The cloak had been hanging innocently on a peg just outside of their temporary dorm, peacefully swinging in the breeze that drafted through the floorboards and remaining in the state they had found it in. How Roy hadn't seen it before he didn't know, but now it was there he was mutely shocked at its destroyed condition.

What had once been a soft, comforting red material had been marred with large, irregular splashes of shadowed crimson, ruining the gentle colour with its ugly hue and stripping it of all it's former glory. There were areas - most noticeably the sleeves and the area where it had been shredded by those three knives - where it hung off the main body in tattered, blood-soaked ribbons and there were other parts where it had been visibly manhandled and worn; finger-shaped tears and randomized rips in the muted fabric.

Roy grimaced upon seeing it. It could be saved, possibly, if they washed it and then transmuted the tears and rips out, and Roy decided he'd ask Jordan for some red fabric later on so he could do so. "It's been destroyed," he observed quietly, "are you sure that the symbol is even visible anymore?"

The blonde beside him was quiet for a few short moments and Roy glanced over to see his sharp grey eyes focused on the cloak. "Yeah," he said finally, "it's condition hasn't changed since I last saw it. The symbol is worn down and there is blood on it, but it should still be clear as to what it looks like." His hand reached for the cloak and he thumbed the material gently, turning it around so the back was visible. "Look, here it is."

Brow furrowing, Roy studied what he was seeing with a careful eye. It was something he was sure he hadn't seen, but it triggered some sort of unreadable recognition in the back of his mind. A black cross, with the points ending in arrows, and a snake twisting within the limbs of the symbol like it was a serpent grasping to a thin tree branch. Two wings that resembled an angel's protruded off the top arrow and above that was a three-pointed crown. Where had he seen this before? He briefly remembered something like this being in a piece of his paperwork but couldn't be sure of it.

"Interesting," he mumbled. "I could have sworn that this was somewhere within my paperwork, but I can't remember what it meant, where it was from and who it had to do with. I don't even know if my mind is just playing tricks on me and it _is_ just a cool emo symbol." He laughed even though nothing was even remotely funny, running his hand through his hair in an exasperated manner.

"I read somewhere that a symbol like this could be in honor of someone or something." Jean cracked his knuckles and continued staring at the battered cloak. "Though, it has a cross on it - that could relate to religion."

Roy held his chin in his hands, contemplating a small thought in his silence. "What if we show the symbol to the kid?" he mulled over his thoughts some more, "his reaction could help us with the-"

But he was interrupted before he could continue speaking, by rapid footsteps crossing the mahogany floorboards. "Colonel Mustang? Colonel Mustang, you have a Lieutenant Colonel Hughes requesting he speak to you on the phone. Please follow me to Jordan's office, if you will," Takashi called, offering the two higher ups a nervous smile. "The Second Lieutenant can come as well, if he really wants to..."

"Oh goody! I'm so excited to listen to the Boss yell at Hughes and break the phone in half!" the blonde chimed in mock-enthusiasm. Takashi gave Jean a questioning look and Roy slapped his hand to his forehead.

"Alright, we're coming. Havoc, come on." Roy strode past both the medical assistant and the smoker with a swing in his stride.

"You seem happy now," Jean observed humorously, making Takashi laugh quietly from behind them, "you always used to dread talking to Hughes because all he did was talk about how fantastic his wife was and how adorable his child was... what did you do to the real Roy, Boss?" The blonde eyed him suspiciously as the trio exited the dorm building's corridor and entered the main one.

In no way was he excited about conversing with Maes over the phone - he'd most likely receive that horrifically plain speech about how amazing his family is once again - but there were matters regarding the teenager's homing situation once he's better he needed to discuss with the older man. There were no doubts that he would say yes, because Hughes had always had a soft spot for kids, especially when bodily harm comes to them. It was just a reflex to care for the younger that his best friend had developed over the years.

"I'm going to ask him whether he'd be willing to take in the kiddo if-" he paused awkwardly in order to change his wording, "- _when_ he's healed up a little more. I have no doubts that he will say no - you know what he can be like." They twisted through a chattering crowd of privates, some of whom saluted to Jean and Roy and mumbled brief greetings, before they finally turned down the corridor that would eventually lead them to Jordan's office.

"If I may ask," Takashi spoke up, "why do you think that the Lieutenant Colonel would take him in without a second thought? I know I've never met him, but..." He nervously ran his hand through his coffee-coloured hair. "I've never known someone ranked so high in the military to do that."

"That's because there are barely any fun people at Briggs," Jean remarked faintly through his cigarette. Roy elbowed him sharply in the ribcage.

"Hughes is just a family guy. He loves to excitedly tell everyone about his family and show us the same picture over and over again... it gets really plain." Roy yawned at the memory. "But he adores children and he doesn't like to see them get injured or hurt. That's why I think he'll take the mystery kid in a heart beat. Besides, he's a good parents. The kid'll love him."

The trio entered Jordan's office and Roy hummed as he looked around for the first time. The same tan walls, the same dark mahogany wooden flooring, pictures of calming landscapes scattered between the bookshelves and filing cabinets. The desk was located near the back of the room and was cluttered much to Roy's annoyance - he forced himself to suppress the urge to tidy it for him. _Damn OCD._ "You have no idea how many times Roy nearly broke the phone slamming it down after talking to Hughes," Jean laughed, "he'd burnt the phone line before, he got so mad. How they're still friends, I'll never know..."

"The phone, Colonel Mustang," Takashi interrupted, "the Lieutenant Colonel is still waiting for you to get onto the line."

"Oh, that's right." He picked up the phone on Jordan's desk and put it to his ear. "Hello, Hughes..." he greeted, a needle of thread twisted within his sullen words. It would only be a few seconds until the older man would begin talking about his family...

" _Roy-Boy! You finally came! I called to tell you that we all just got on the train. I'm using the line they put at the very back of the last train compartment._ "

"Oh, that's good. When do you think you'll be here by?"

" _Maybe in a day or so? You'll need to sort out transport because we aren't going to walk from the station to Briggs._ " Roy could hear Hawkeye and a few unfamiliar voices talking in the background, momentarily distracting him.

Jean was thumbing absently through the books in Jordan's cupboard, visibly listening to Roy's side of the conversation. "Yes, yes, we have all of that sorted. For now, I have a proposition."

" _A proposition?_ " Hughes repeated. " _Spill the beans, Roy-Boy_."

"So... this may be a bit confusing at first," he paused awkwardly, "but when we finally arrived at Cranebrook Burrow, we found... a kid. He can't be more then fourteen or fifteen. He was... injured, to say the least, and we had to bring him back to Briggs the moment we caught sight of him. We haven't managed to find out where he came from or who any of his family are, so we have to-"

" _Hold on, you found an injured kid? In Cranbrook Burrow? What about Caston?_ "

"... I'll fully fill you in later on. But," he coughed into his elbow and Takashi quietly mimicked him, "if we can't find the kid's family, we won't have anyone to take him in. I was hoping that maybe you'd foster him when he's up to it..."

" _Hmm... I'm sorry to say this, but I'm going to have to say no, Roy-Boy._ "

* * *

 _I'M SO SORRY. THE END OF THIS WAS AWFUL. I WILL EDIT IT LATER, I PROMISE, SO DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME IT WAS BAD BECAUSE I ALREADY KNOW.  
anyway... I was happy with a lot of this chapter, especially the first part. I thought giving you an insight on how he went blind would be a nice change for you all._

 ** _fact:_** _I love coffee! it is quite literally my lifeline. it's all I ever drink sometimes. XD_

 _regarding reviews... yeah, you already know a lot of the jist. detailed reviews instead of one-liners tell me exactly what you liked about it and make me a lot happier than a lazy line saying 'CONTINUE'. also, tell me what age you think I am judging by my writing. I'm just curious...!_

 _LOVE YOU ALL  
\- **royalvite**._


	9. chapter 09: twin

_hello, hello, hello!  
_ _thank you all very much for the support and love you have showered this story in. honestly, I never even thought I'd get over ten reviews~!_

 ** _lexieconextreme:_** _yeah, not for Ed... XD_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _ahh, he has his reasons. thank you!_

 _ **DamenTheDiamond:** EVERYBODY IS EXCITED FOR MAES SENPAI ;D_

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _to be honest, I felt bad for him as I wrote it XD_

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _yes, yes, very cruel, very cruel... *evil grin*_

 ** _Cutiepie120048:_** _'THE GINGER.' XDD_

 _for those of you who tried to guess my age, I'm not in my late teens/early twenties like you thought... I'm 13! I think I mentioned it once or twice previously.  
I wrote this at... hmm... one in the morning? XD I'm listening to Cry Me A River (Nightcore edition) by Justin Timberlake on repeat and it's pumped me up. WOOO LET'S GET WRITINGGGGGGGG *RUNS ACROSS SCREEN IN BANANA COSTUME*_

 _thanks for reading and reviews are awesome,  
\- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul  
**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

 _( twin )_

.

 _'The importance of sight has been one of the most taken for granted systems in the human body. Sight, like the other four senses, plays an important role in the survival of an individual. In primitive humans, a loss of vision would make predator avoidance and food gathering difficult. Hence, there is an evolutionary pressure to maintain vision even when the eye sustains injury.'_

 _He remembered reading that in a book when he was... four or five, perhaps. The book had been on the top shelf in his father's study, themed about the human anatomy of the eye. It had been an interesting read all together, but the page that had grabbed his attention the most was labelled 'Loss of Sight' and had described causes and possible cures for both temporary and permanent blindness._

 _At that age, he hadn't ever thought he would actually loose his sight, especially with sulfuric acid. That was just proof that anything could happen, whether you expect it or not._ _Now it had become reality and there was not a lot he could do about it with the little strength and resources he had._

 _He was trying his hardest to recall back the information from that one book. It was hard to concentrate - his eyes were still burning as if they were on fire and adjusting to the world while it was bathed in unmovable darkness was only worsening his searing headache and bleeding wounds. The blood that had pooled around his frail body made a sloshing noise as he moved in his corner._

 _'While the eye is highly developed, certain post trauma mechanisms have evolved in such a way that our visual axis will not be altered, which would normally lead to instant blindness. Damage done to any normal part of the body usually leads to some sort of immunological response, including inflammation caused by the lymphocytes.'_

 _He had forgotten what a lot of those words meant. The knowledge was lost in his agony. Trying to remember just made the hammer pounding at his head try harder to smash his battered skull into a million pieces._

 _'In primitive man, blindness could potentially lead to the individual's death.'_

 _His chest heaved and his throat tightened. It was all too much. Getting ripped away from his home... the pain... the darkness... and_ him. _Everything was overwhelming him. All he wanted to do was see his brother's beautiful grey-hazel eyes and wide, friendly smile again. Feel his arms envelope him in one of those brotherly bear hugs he always liked to wake him up with. Hear his voice telling him to get out of bed, we have to go to school, we'll be late and Winry will kill you._

Winry _, he thought sadly,_ she'll kill me if - no, when - I get back _._

 _He understood what those books meant when they say that blindness can make one feel unsafe. He couldn't see incoming predators, couldn't prepare himself for what was coming as he usually did. If_ he _appears, he'd be worthless against_ him _. A useless cripple, unable to defend himself._ _Acid was such a stupid way to go out, even if it was indirect._

 _Of course, he was smart enough to know that the damage to his eye that was done couldn't be reversed even if the best doctors in the world tried. Sulfuric acid practically melted your iris, even if it was diluted like_ he _had said it was, and nothing short of a medical miracle could fix that._

 _His brother had always said he loved the colour of his eyes. 'Brother, the gold of your eyes are so beautiful in the sunlight. I wish I had eyes like you - mine are just boring old hazel.' Or sometimes he'd say, 'Brother, when you get angry your eyes loose their golden sheen. Stop being angry. I don't want to see your eyes without that gold in them.'_

 _Now, he didn't know what colour they were. No doubt they wouldn't be gold anymore - he had heard that going blind makes your eyes go a little grey. The book had used the term 'clouded'. He wondered how his brother would react to it, if- no, when he got out of here._ _But he stopped thinking just then, to register what his ears were telling him._

 _Footsteps. Coming from the porch. His feet made a hollow 'clink' noise when they touched the wood. A sudden gush of cold wind. Louder footsteps. Something slamming against the wall. He was inside._ _It was amazing what your hearing could tell you, even if your sight was gone and your head was pounding. He was eternally glad that he hadn't lost that as well._

 _"Good morning, Eddy!"_

 _He froze._ _Where was_ he _? He couldn't see - not even a silhouette!_ He _was standing in this room and he didn't know where_ he _was._ _Follow his voice... follow his voice... that was all he could do. Hearing would have to be a substitute for loss of sight- o_ _h, Truth. Loss of sight. Loss of sight. Blindness. That would mean-_

 _The sunsets at home were beautiful, they always had been. Brilliant rays of pink, orange and red - all vibrant and alive - painted the darkening sky as the sun rested upon the jagged horizon. The rolling green hilltops would be dyed with the colours of the setting sun as evening shifted to night time. Every evening, after dinner, him, his brother and Winry would go and sit by the river and watched as the sky turned from brilliant aqua to velvety midnight blue._

 _He wouldn't be able to see it again. Not now, not ever. Heck, he'd never see another drop of colour in the world._

 _He used to like the colour black. It was simple and it looked good on everyone in clothes form (except, his brother never managed to pull it off - he only ever looked good in collared shirts). But now it was all he could see, he had already grown to hate it, and he had only been blind for... maybe a few hours? A day? He forgot when it had actually happened._

 _"How're you adjusting to the blindness?" A laugh, wheezing and roughened from alcoholic intake._

 _His throat tightened, like a noose around his neck was tugging at his emotions. How dare this- this sicko- take away his sight and play it off like some kind of joke? Like it was something to be enjoyed and embraced?! Sight let him see the colours in the world. It let him see the smiling face of what was left from his family and the grins of the ones he loved. It gave him safety._ _But what did he know about safety? He hadn't felt safe for a long, long time now._

 _"Oh, you aren't going to speak today. I see how it is. Anyhow... I have a present for you."_

 _A present never meant anything good. It used to, but not now. He froze, sightless eyes following the sound of_ his _sand papery voice._

 _"You can't see it. You'll know what it is once-"_

 _Pain exploded in his stomach. It felt like someone was hacking at his body with a chainsaw- someone was screaming. He was too lightheaded to register the fact that it was himself. What was that? A... a- hacksaw... no, no- it was too small._ _"It's a knife, Eddy. I transmuted it myself - it's big. A bread knife, though it's thinner then that. The handle is made of the leather from your shoes. It feels nice."_

 _A barking laugh._ _"Well, for me. Not for you."_ His _voice was blotched out, only coming through to him in patches as hysterical sobs broke through his screams. The pain- how could a knife hurt so much, was it twisting? Oh Truth, no, he'll die if he looses any more blood-_

"Your screams are beautiful, Eddy... music to my ears."

His eyes snapped open.

... only to see a pair of grey orbs staring into his own.

.

" _What do you mean 'no'? You can't say no!_ "

Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes sighed regrettably upon hearing his best friend's disappointed tone. He hated to turn the offer down - after all, there was an injured child and he had always been one to assist the youthful, harmed and homeless, especially if they were all in one traumatized mix - but he had his compatible reasons. Knowing that Roy would immediately be severely disillusioned with his decision, he hesitated for a few moments before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Roy-Boy, I really am. But my answer still stands strong."

" _But it's a child! You never turn down the children, Hughes! Never!_ "

The older man dragged a hand through his hair and gave Hawkeye a brief exasperated look, which was met with a questioning one of her own. "I just don't think I'd be able to take in a kid who is injured. Judging by your hesitation, I'd say that it isn't just a papercut - the damage is both physical and mental, right?" There was a quiet hum of affirmation on the other side of the line and Maes sighed once more. "Exactly. I have military duties that require me to be in classified areas or places where children can't be. I barely have time for little Elicia, let alone someone who will probably need supervision a lot of the time."

It hurt to say no - oh, how much he hated to even hear about someone as young as fourteen or fifteen getting badly injured in one way or another. Just being told a mere story of someone as youthful as that made his heart clench in concern and pity for the child and his stomach swell in dread for what was to come. But he had to, no matter how much he wanted to change his response. He hoped desperately that Roy would understand why he couldn't accept the offer; thankfully, Roy had always been an understanding person.

" _Why can't Gracia just take care of him while you're working?_ "

An image of his wife and her beautiful emerald green eyes filtered into his mind and a wide, relaxed smile graced his features, though it was dropped only moments later as he spoke into the line. "Gracia has been kinda... _stressed_ lately. She's had to stay in bed a lot of the time because she's been ill and I've been getting up earlier to make her some tea and made sure Elicia is alright. The doctor has told me that it may be a lung condition... we're unsure as of yet. But she shouldn't take the burden of dealing with someone like that, not until she's feeling better."

From behind him, there were several noises of surprise - Randall was mumbling something about breathing problems, Alf was looking a little concerned and Hawkeye was trying her best to close the door to their private train compartment (the conductor had given them their own part of the train because there were not a lot of people on board and they _were_ on official military business, after all) so no one could listen in on the conversation.

" _Oh... I understand. I'm sorry to hear that, Hughes..._ " Roy trailed off awkwardly and Maes briefly heard Jean mumble incoherently behind him. It sounded as if him and someone else were having another conversation; muffled by the distance from them and the microphone, but still spoken by distinguishable voices.

" _Did you find someone to supervise Falman while everyone else is away?_ "

"Supervise?" Hughes repeated, "Roy-Boy, this is Falman we're talking about. He doesn't need supervision, he needs company. And to answer your question, yes, we have Major Armstrong staying in your office with him to assist him with _your_ leftover paperwork." The older man snorted, knowing how stupid it was to ask such a thing, and the Colonel mimicked the sound on the other end of the line before laughing deftly.

" _You have a point, I suppose. Is Hawkeye there by any chance? I want to talk to her._ "

Maes rolled his eyes and smirked. He should have been expecting that from the start - the mighty Colonel Roy Mustang, A.K.A the Flame Alchemist, always relying on his First Lieutenant for everything; from sorting out his extra paperwork to wrapping those minor burns when he nicks himself on his alchemic ability by accident, she was always the first to know about all he did and where he went. Most considered it to be little more than a professional relationship, but Maes knew better then to assume such things. It was obvious to him that there was a romantic spark between them.

But both Riza and Roy were impossibly stubborn, the latter being more so, and it would be a long time until they would even think of admitting it to each other. They would simply ignore the feelings they felt for one another and instead battle their own thoughts themselves, until a day would turn to a week and a week would turn to a month, and it would be forgotten.

Such a shame, really - they would make such an adorable couple.

"Yeah, she's here. I'll pass the phone to her." He pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced pointedly at Hawkeye, who curiously met his gaze. "Hawkeye, you have a certain Colonel on the phone for you," he said, suggestively wriggling his eyebrows at the woman, who furrowed her brow and took the phone from the older man's hands.

.

" _Hello, sir._ "

Roy grinned, leaning back in Jordan's office chair and pressing further into the thick, dark leather. It was relaxing to hear the First Lieutenant's voice even if it were formal and tight - such a familiar thing reminded him of home, and that was what he was missing right now.

If he could return back to Central Headquarters, he would without even a second thought. The masses of icy snow that blanketed the landscape was something he could live without and the cold corridors of Briggs was a place he didn't particularly enjoy staying in for very long. In fact, the only thing he really liked about Northern Command was the fact that the colour of the walls and the deep mahogany floor gave the place a warmer feel to it - he thought about asking the Fuhrer whether they could make some adjustments to Central or Eastern.

But he had many duties here in the cold mountain of Briggs, ones he was unable to remove himself from until they sort some things out. He still had to find someone compatible to take the kiddo in after he's healed up and he knew that, in order to aid that process, he'd have to remain by the teenager's side. As of right now, he was the one that the kid seemed most comfortable with (well, that was what Jordan had said, anyway). That would apparantly be a large factor in how quickly his wounds - both physical and mental - sealed over.

"Hello, Hawkeye," he greeted heartily into the line after a moments silence, "how are you today? Is everything alright on the train or is it complete chaos as I would expect?"

He was sure that having ten soldiers on a train would make the rest of it rather quiet, but regarding the actual military men... well, let's say that a lot of them didn't exactly fit the criteria of being sensible like they should. How they remained hired, he didn't know - he was unable to dismiss those who weren't under his command. Only Hughes could-

Oh. _Oh_. Of course. Hughes was in charge of Forensics and Investigation. They could do anything - shower Central in toilet paper, even - and they'd get away with it because the Lieutenant Colonel would say that they needed to blow off some steam from the so-called agonizing military work they had to do. Having one or two of those moments were alright (he once had a wheelie-chair race with Havoc and they had scooted around the office until Hawkeye told them to get back to work) but the amount of slacking they did was unreal sometimes.

He needed to talk some sense into Hughes some day.

" _It's okay. We have an entire compartment to ourselves because there were not a lot of people on the train at this time, so a lot of the Investigation team and the Forensics team are sleeping across an entire three seats. Breda and Feury are sleeping and Hughes is awkwardly hovering around the youngsters on the train. Other then that, we're all doing alright._ "

Roy laughed openly, causing both Takashi and Jean to glance up at him and frown. "That sounds like fun," he remarked sarcastically.

" _How are things going up on your end, sir?_ "

"Uh..." he hummed, looking at his watch and then at Havoc, who didn't look up from the important-looking paper he was reading with a smirking Takashi. "Well, I have a lot to do. Jordan - he's the guy we've been following around most of the time here - has given me a lot of work to do and I still have my own paperwork to sort out up here. Has Hughes told you about our... discovery?"

The line was silent for a few moments. " _No. Elaborate, sir, if you will._ "

"In short... Havoc and I went up to Cranebrook Burrow to find Caston already dead and a poor kid... well, you'll see what condition he's in when you all get here. He's really quite injured and we're unsure of what to do with him. He'll need somewhere to go when this is all sorted out and we can't just drop him in any old orphanage because... again, you'll find out later." He cracked his knuckles and sighed mutely. "We have yet to find out who did this mess."

" _A kid? How old?_ "

"Can't be more than fourteen or fifteen."

" _Oh._ " There was a pause on the line. " _Good luck to you, sir. I think I should go now; you have paperwork to do, don't you?_ "

Roy groaned loudly. "Paperwork..." he repeated distantly. "Yes, paperwork. How fun. Goodbye Lieutenant and have a safe journey travelling with those buffoons." The phone made a loud clang noise as he slammed it down. Immediately, Takashi fell out of his chair (how could one be so startled by such a noise?) and Jean smirked deftly.

"Careful on the phone, sir," the blonde said, mimicking Hawkeye in a mock high-pitched female voice. Roy flipped him a rather rude hand gesture and levered himself smoothly to his feet.

"We'd better go see the kid before I have to get onto that paperwork I've been purposefully procrastinating off," he said in that cold 'Colonel' tone of his, then looked at Takashi, who nodded weakly and dragged himself off the floor. Havoc snickered as the man's tanned face few redder and the two Central military soldiers followed the medical assistant out of Jordan's office and into the corridor.

Takashi asked, "if I may ask, but who were you talking to? That was private information you said. Was it to the Lieutenant Colonel?"

"No, no. It was my bodyguard and assistant, First Lieutenant Hawkeye. I assure you that she can be trusted, Takashi," Roy responded dully. Jean seemed to be holding back a smartass comment judging by his comically bitter expression and a simple ice-cold glare - Roy knew what he was thinking of saying already - veered him off that road.

It was a few minutes of awkward silence before they reached the mystery teenager's infirmary ward and, when they finally stopped outside, they all froze.

What was that...?

Was that...

Was that- screaming?

 _Screaming_.

That could only mean...

 _Fuck._

Within moments, the trio burst into immediate action. Jean seemed to realize that what they really needed was support in this and took off down the hall at a wild run, calling Jordan's name with audacity equal to that of a drunk, drugged banshee. His shouting was what made the situation seem a lot more dramatic and severe, though Roy knew better then to tell him to stop - Jordan would know what to do. He always did.

Meanwhile, Takashi had practically kicked the door to the infirmary ward open and flung himself inside, a needle filled with what Roy assumed as sedatives (did they always carry them around or was that just Takashi?) entrapped within his long, delicate fingers...

... only to freeze and gasp as soon as he entered.

"R-Roy..." he whispered, coffee eyes wide and nervous, "y-your gun... get it... _now_..."

The Colonel furrowed his brow and put his hand to his belt, where the leather holster was sat on his hip, holding the Glock 22 pistol in his hands through not pulling it out of it's secure case. "What- why would I need to use my gun?" he asked, though his question only reached deaf ears. Nerves swelled in his chest - what could Takashi be so frightened of? There was only a kid in there - and he edged round to stand behind the medical assistant.

"It's only J-"

He cut himself off.

There he was - the familiar messy ginger hair, tousled and practically defying gravity as usual, sharp grey eyes that shone with stormy intelligence and freckles smattering across otherwise unblemished peachy skin. Only, he wore a pair of black leather jeans and a skin-tight black shirt, revealing a lean muscular build, instead of his usual lab coat.

In his gloved hands was a syringe, filled to the top with some sort of thick pink liquid, with the needle positioned beside the triangular fossa in the kid's ear. To anyone it would have looked like a simple treatment, but Roy knew it wasn't - the kid was lying limp in the bed, the heart monitor beeping like a madman and a line of crimson blood running from his temple and down his face, before dripping of his tilted chin and soaking his bandaged chest with a red splatter.

 _Jordan._

But... it wasn't Jordan. Jordan didn't have broad shoulders or muscles like the stranger - he was narrow and even lankier than Hughes. And Jordan didn't have that mole; he saw it now; right underneath his left eye. It certainly looked like Jordan, but it wasn't him. Roy pulled out his Glock 22 pistol and checked to see if it was loaded before aiming it at the man's right arm. If he were to shoot, he'd get his arm and he'd drop the needle and probably loose his balance too. A good way to disable the target but not finish him off.

Apparently, Takashi was unable to see the difference, and shook with uncharacteristic terror. "J-Jordan..." he squeaked fearfully, "Jordan, if you inject that... he'll go deaf... what're you doing, Jordan?" The brown-haired, brown-eyed man looked faint and Roy couldn't help but roll his eyes at him. He was in the military! Had he not had any experience with intruders before?

Oh. _Oh._ This was Briggs, the toughest command center of them all; of course they never got anything like intruders. Of _course_. They barely let him through, let alone an intruder. How he managed to get in was something he didn't really feel like thinking about.

"Jordan?" the stranger rumbled, his voice rough and wavering with drunken intoxication. "That bastard isn't me... I don't know what you're talkin' about..." His voice trailed off into incoherent mumbles and he pulled the needle from the unconscious boy - who was currently bleeding from a light head wound, he suddenly remembered - and slid it absently into the pocket of his leather jeans. With that, he gave once last scowl to the teenager and then raised his hands above his head.

Roy glowered at him, keeping his gun pointed toward the man as he moved forward. The unidentified being didn't seem phased by the silent threat and continued half-liddly staring at the Colonel with uninterested grey eyes. "How did you get in?" Roy demanded in his usual cold, authoritative tone. "You-"

Just then, a familiar voice interrupted him, and Roy found himself positively relived when Jordan broke dramatically through the door. There were a few tense beats of silence and everything seemed to stand still as two stormy grey gazes found each other, widening in unison. The mysterious man visibly stiffened and narrowed his eyes at his ginger lookalike, before Jordan suddenly exclaimed, "Roy, why in the world are you pointing a gun at my twin brother?"

Roy spluttered, though his aim didn't waver. "Twin?" he repeated, clearly shocked by the mere idea. Jordan having a twin was like... having two rather eccentric ginger tigers pounce on you at once. He thought having one Jordan was bad but _two_? Torture. "Y-you never told me you had a twin brother!"

"You never asked," Jordan responded meekly. "Could you not point a gun at him?" The smaller ginger blinked and his grey eyes settled upon the Glock 22 pistol Roy held in his hands, then moves and pushed his arm down. "He's not even doing anything. Jean bowls into my dorm screaming about how the kid was having three heart attacks at the same time and I rush in to just see my brother - who _lives_ here - visiting my newest patient. Thanks for wasting my-" But Jordan immediately shut up, and narrowed his eyes at the unconscious teenager on the bed.

Roy followed the younger man's gaze, his own scanning the limp form thoroughly. A stream of crimson blood trickled from the bruised slice in his temple, leaving faded red lines in his battered skin as the droplets ran down his cheeks and dripped off his chin, soaking the fringes of the bed sheets with the dark liquid. It was clear to him now that the screaming had been the teenager's form of panic as he got assaulted - not that he blamed him. After all he'd been through, he was bound to be terrified by a fully grown man knocking him unconscious and trying to inject his ear with some sort of sludgy pink liquid.

"Akuma... what happened here?" Jordan asked quietly. Jean - who had suddenly appeared behind Takashi, breathing heavily and wheezing as if he were exhausted from the wild running he had done - was eyeing the scene with suspicion in his dark grey eyes, his gaze occasionally flickering toward the man now identified as Akuma. There was a murderous spark in his expression and Roy knew that, by now, his face must match his subordinate's.

 _Was this the man who had done this to him?_

 _Jordan's twin brother?_

 _After all this time..._

"Of course, you all go running to my s _cumbag_ of a brother," Akuma spat, his face fixated in a shadowed scowl. "Who was it? Who was it that stole _my_ Eddy from me?" He held up the syringe in a menacing manner at Roy, waving the needle, where the vibrant pink liquid dripped off the end and fell to the floor. "It was _you_ , wasn't it? You took my Eddy away from me, didn't you?"

"'Your' Eddy?" Roy repeated. His gaze narrowed dangerously. "You were the one who did this to him, I presume." Although his gloves weren't on his hands (he thought Jean had them), he instinctively rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and glowered at the broader ginger.

From behind him, Jordan's expression was dark as thunder. "I should have known... you've never been the most mentally stable person alive, but I never thought you'd go so far as to kidnap a mere child and _torture_ him," he snarled angrily, stepping beside Roy. Takashi and Jean remained quiet, though Roy thought that they could possibly have disappeared to find the pair some help. _Thank God - Havoc has a brain_.

Akuma laughed. It wasn't a humorous laugh, however - it was icy and painfully heartless, like he had gone insane.

 _Clearly, he had a long, long time ago._

Before the Ishvalan Civil War, he would have felt sorry for a man with a mental state like his. It wasn't just by chance that you turned into a fucking psycho; something must have triggered it. And, judging by just how mad this guy really was, it was something pretty damn traumatizing. But now he was used to seeing sadists such as him, he knew that there was no turning back, and they were lost to the reasoning. Kimblee was a plausible example of this - he was one of the most psychotic soldiers he knew. Even before the war, he had been quite far in.

"Jordie, Jordie, Jordie," Akuma chortled coldly. "Do you remember what happened on the date of May twenty-seventh all those years ago, when we were... hmm, nine or ten, perhaps, ... on that one night, when we were playing in the forests by our parents' house?"

Jordan stiffened. "You were kidnapped," he whispered hoarsely, his face pale. "I was so scared, Akuma. I thought you'd never come back." Suddenly his face appeared to twist into one of unimaginable anger, no doubt deftly triggered by his taller brother's actions. "But now... now I wish you hadn't. What you did to the kid... that isn't right, Akuma. You know that."

Roy felt the blood leave his face. _Kidnapped?_

"Oh, you remembered!" Akuma laughed again, a twisted smirk decorating his face. It was hard to believe that such a man could be identical twins with Jordan. "Do you know what they did to me, Jordie?"

How it was possible, Roy didn't know, but Jordan paled even more. The Colonel was sure that his freckles were disappearing, he had gone so pallor from fear. "I... y-you came home... a-all covered in y-your own b-blood and b-beaten up... c-crying and sh-shaking from the cold... t-they... they did..." He trailed off, backing away suddenly, and falling against Roy as if too weak to hold himself up. The onyx-eyed man allowed the weight; it was clear Jordan needed what support he could get.

Akuma's laughter was louder this time, audible enough to make the unconscious teenage boy groan and shift. "Oh, yes! How much I ached..." he growled, grey eyes flaring with undisguised anger. "That was what started it. The pleasure those men had while they took their own problems out on my body... oh, it looked so satisfying, Jordie! It looked as if their dreams had just come true... like they had just successfully completed their life goal... who doesn't want to feel that beautiful sensation, Jordie? Who?!"

Roy's dark gave flickered between the teenager and Akuma. "Just like I thought," he whispered, more to himself than anyone. "This behavior just doesn't begin on its own. It was triggered... I was right." If anyone had heard him, they made no move to showcase this, and the two gingers appeared to be ignoring him. In fact, the only way he was being regarded was as Jordan's support beam.

"I wanted to feel it for myself..." Akuma's stormy eyes flickered towards the child limply lying in the hospital bed. "And little Eddy just happened to be sparring with his brother by a river I was passing. I could have taken the brother, but the fire in those beautiful golden eyes as he protected his younger sibling from me... it gave me the shivers..."

"But-" Jordan spluttered, his eyes wide, "but, th-they didn't... they didn't bl-blind him, or cut off... why did you go so f-far, Akuma?! What did h-he ever- ever do to y-you?!"

Akuma laughed once more, his grey eyes sparkling with sick sadism. "The first of our 'sessions' made me so happy, Jordie, so I did it again. And again. And again. And again. Until... until it grew addictive. Like a drug. The kid's determination... it was beautiful. His screams were like an orchestra, Jordie. Don't you want me to be happy, Jordie? Your poor, tortured older brother..."

"He's a kid," Roy spat, unable to hold himself back any longer, "and you put him through this for your own sick games?! Let me guess, Cato's death was you as well?!"

"Cato?" Akuma repeated, scratching his head. "Oh, the man with the military outfit and the long hair. No, no. He wasn't me, Colonel, let me tell you that. I did nothing of the sort. I'd never murder... just..." He motioned pointedly to the unconscious child. "You get the idea. I'm off."

Suddenly, Jordan sprang back to life, and used Roy as a lever to fling himself at his brother. In the sudden movement Roy's Glock 22 pistol slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor, sending spare bullets spraying across the floor. Jordan's foot landed upon one and in one fluent movement he fell backwards into Roy's muscled arms. "Akuma!" he barked, still leaning on Roy, "d-don't go... y-you can't!"

"Oh, but I can, Jordie," the older of the two twins chuckled psychotically. "Goodbye!"

And with that, he was up and out of the window, disappearing into the fingers of the blizzard storming outside.

* * *

 _a lot of you were suspicious about Jordan being the man to hurt Eddy, and let me tell you, this really made things hard. originally, I made it so Cato had been the one to torture Eddy, but then I changed it to Jordan upon realizing that a) PLOT TWIST and b) it's unexpected... but then I remembered that Jordan is literally my favourite OC of all time and that I couldn't make my ginger ninja evil. so... I made a twin brother. named Akuma. does it make sense? I hope so._

 _I wrote this in record time. and I wanted to gift you all with a fast update so... here!_

 ** _fact:_** _I love nightcore songs. holy crud they make the original song so GOOD._

 _regarding reviews... well. I don't need to say much. can I just say that... the writer UPDATES which makes you HAPPY. then you REVIEW which makes me HAPPY. then me being HAPPY makes me want to UPDATE. see where I'm going? more reviews = more updates. faster updates. woo._

 _love you all!  
\- **royalvite** ;D_


	10. chapter 10: discover

_hello, hello, hello!  
_ _thanks for all of those lovely reviews~ I can't express how grateful I am for your support. it's honestly making me so darn happy!_

 ** _arrowriver:_** _oh no, don't think that I don't know that I threw the plot around because I know I did. that's why it's called a 'plot twist', isn't it?_

 ** _DamenTheDiamond:_** _*gives baseball bat* hurt Akuma all you want XD_

 ** _The Flame Alchemist 13:_** _I was actually thinking about making in Envy instead, but then I thought that Envy isn't so sick as to torture Ed (it would be more Lust-like to do that), so I decided not. thanks, fam! ;D_

 ** _lexieconextreme:_** _pff now I can't stop laughing that's great XD_

 ** _lilaclily00_** ** _:_** _you're a pretty damn good author yourself. don't put yourself down, fam. ^^;_

 ** _Attackoneverything:_** _yes, yes it does..._

 ** _KaylinElemental15:_** _yes that's exactly why I called him that!_

 ** _ImpossibleJedi4:_** _thank youuu omg_

 ** _Mel Mad:_** _thanks!_

 _ **ATTENTION READERS.** if you don't go to **lexieconextreme** 's page and click on her story (and **REVIEW ON IT** too!) 'Akuma Matata - A Parody' I will cry. this absolute genius wrote a parody of Hakuna Matata based off Jordan's twin brother Akuma. please. it's epic. and lexieconextreme is one hell of a __legend. thanks again for that, lexie! hope you enjoy the chapter!_

 _by the way, Briggs' resident ice queen isn't going to be in this story, because I don't really see why she needs to be in it and I don't really want to write her all that much. DON'T YOU DARE COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS, though._

 _thanks for reading and I LOVE REVIEWS,  
\- **royalvite**._

* * *

 **Fractured Mind, Broken Soul**

 _a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
written by: royalvite._

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE**

 _( discover )_

.

For the third time in a span of ten minutes, Colonel Roy Mustang was left speechless.

It took him a good few minutes of pure silence to even begin attempting to make sense of what had just happened. Not only did Jordan Vegas suddenly have a nearly-identical older twin brother thrown into the picture, it turned out that he happened to be a fucking _psycho_ who had lost so much of his sanity that he felt it a good idea to torture a seemingly innocent teenager. Then - oh yes, _more_ \- he discovers that said madman was kidnapped when he was ten and he _liked the look of pleasure on his abuser's faces as they beat him up_?!

Roy didn't quite know what to think. In fact, he only had one thing to say about it all: "what the absolute _fuck_ just happened?"

The weight of Jordan's entire body lifted off his own and a pair of shaken grey eyes turned to glance at him, wide in shock and- was that _fear_? Immediately Roy met his piercing gaze and his expression didn't change as he moved to sit Jordan down in one of the plastic chairs. The younger man was quivering slightly, his ginger hair messy and unkempt from the previous panic that had enveloped the room.

Roy wasn't quite sure what to think when he looked at Jordan. Quite obviously, he was shaken by the sudden appearance of his older twin brother, but it had been the psychotic claims that had really pulled the pin on the grenade. He didn't have any siblings but he knew by now that seeing someone you grew up with closely turn into a maniac with the little sanity left must have been a huge shock. _This world must be bending_ , he thought, giving Jordan a small, half-hearted smile, _I would have never guessed that they were related, even if they did look nearly identical_.

While Jordan was a kind, understanding, and blandly knowledgeable young doctor, it was clear that Akuma was a painstakingly obvious difference - twisted and painfully insane up to the point where whatever intelligence he had didn't matter anymore. They were complete polar opposites excluding their appearances; it was strange to think - to _know_ \- that the two were closely related. Twin brothers were supposed to be twins, which meant the _same_.

Obviously, they weren't the same. Not anymore.

Feeling the cold air hammering at his bare cheeks, Roy stood and slid the window shut, making sure to secure the latch with the key sat on one of the many medical carts in the room. "Are you okay?" he asked as he stopped beside the unconscious teenager, onyx eyes narrow as he scanned the limp figure for any more injuries apart from the obvious. The stream of crimson blood running down his bruised face had slowed now, through small droplets still bled from the minor head wound, dripping off and staining the mint green blanket.

It was a few moments before Jordan shakily responded. "I- I don't k-know, to be h-honest..." he said quietly. Roy picked up a box of tissues and a bottle of disinfectant off a medical cart and held them in his hands, turning to the mystery child. At first, he thought Jordan would scold him for doing what needed to be done without permission, but upon seeing the ginger simply observing him instead of saying something, he continued.

With gentle precision, Roy pressed the top of the open disinfectant bottle against a tissue and dabbed it against the wound. Visibly, the boy's face shifted to one of discomfort and he let out a small groan, though he didn't wake up and only twisted around a little. Roy was surprised - it wasn't like he was sedated or anything, so he must wake up at that all-too-familiar sting. "So... that was your twin brother?" he inquired as he cleaned the wound with a dry tissue, before grabbing a random roll of bandages and medical tape from one of the carts.

From where he was stooped, he could see the scars and bruises littering the unconscious teenager's left arm, especially focused around the wrist, where many jagged slashes had once been and had now scarred over to leave harsh white lines randomly scattering the joint. Clearly, they weren't self-harm; they were too scattered for that. They had been open once upon a time. It made Roy wonder how long he'd been in the hands of that psycho bitch. Roy could feel himself pale just a little as his eyes scanned the boy's body fully. Every time he saw the poor kid's condition, it made anger burn inside of him. Why someone would do this to such an innocent child... it made him sick just thinking about it.

Something was going to get punched.

"Yeah," Jordan responded, still watching as he worked, "use a plaster, not a bandage. We need the bandages to wrap his stumps." Clearly, he was referring to the two missing limbs. Roy had forgotten that he had lost them through the panic of their situation but was not surprised when he was reminded, only silently saddened to see him looking as small and as frail as ever. Had they even made any process?

Well, he _was_ asleep or unconscious half the time...

At first, Roy had been concerned by the amount of time that the mystery teenager spent sleeping. Surely it would be healthier and faster in the healing process to remain awake, so he can finally grow used to his surroundings and the people often appearing in it (their voices, anyway)? Being asleep the whole time would just slow down the entire thing because they had to wait until he woke up in order to get anything proper done.

Yet, Jordan and the rest of the Vegas medical unit didn't seem at all worried by his random sleeping schedule. He remembered, at one point, Jake had told him that it was good for both his mind and his body because it allowed his brain to rest... even though, most of the time, the sleep had been caused by sedation. It just didn't make sense. Did they do it to avoid him having nightmares or was it something a whole lot fisher...?

What-?

What was he thinking? Having nightmares in his state wouldn't be good. Of course, it would be to avoid them.

... was it?

Roy snorted to himself as he put the bandages down and picked up a packet of square white plasters instead. Carefully he unpeeled the plastic from the back of one and pressed the sticky side to the wound on his temple, securing it underneath. Jordan hummed in broken approval from the plastic chair. "He didn't wake up," the ginger remarked distantly, his voice not stammering anymore. "You must have a soft touch if he didn't wake up."

Frowning, Roy looked down at his fingers. He levered himself onto his feet and slouched into the chair beside the younger man. "It must be hard to see your brother like that," he commented, looking at Jordan through serious onyx eyes, "I didn't grow up with a sibling, so I don't know, but it must be really difficult."

The ginger was quiet for a few moments. "He grew up close to me. Our parents - they were nice people, super sweet - didn't have a lot of time for us because of their jobs. Especially when my father lost a foot, and he went to have automail surgery for it, by these people named the Rockbells in Resembool." He swallowed. "Anyway, we used to always go down to the lakes and use our makeshift rafts to have races, fish and do random shit. Every day. We grew closer - we told each other everything and we had no secrets."

One would have seen this as a very sentimental conversation if they were to look on but Roy was using the chance to learn more about Akuma. He was lucky - he had a willing person who was trustworthy and would tell him anything they needed to know for the case. Jordan would be a great help in their investigation, especially in the wild goose chase that was bound to happen as they searched for Akuma. He knew a lot about him (obviously) and it wasn't like he was on his older twin brother's side or anything, unless something was going on behind the military's back of course.

The Colonel sat quietly, both listening and wondering where Takashi and Jean were. He briefly registered that Jordan was telling him what had happened on the day when Akuma had been kidnapped.

 _"I'll race you to the other side of the lake on the rafts, Aki!" Jordan challenged daringly, his grin wide as the gentle breeze toyed with his ginger hair. Another pair of identical grey eyes met his, the sparkle of excitement and adventure in the stormy colour, matching the younger twin's gaze._

 _"You're on!"_

 _Immediately, both boys leaped clumsily onto the rafts, ignoring the creak of protest the wood gave as their weights hit the surface. Underneath them, the water tilted their makeshift 'boats' dangerously. Jordan stared Akuma down as they got their kayak paddles prepared, dipping the plastic end in the water and securing their positions on the rafts. "Three..."_

 _"Two..."_

 _"One..."_

 _"GO!"_

"That sounds awesome," Roy laughed heartily. "I didn't grow up somewhere where I could do things like that and I didn't make many friends." The dark haired man had secretly always wanted a little brother - he could teach him how to do things and be that overprotective sibling that everyone was petrified of in school because, if you messed with the younger, you'd always get his older brother on your tail.

"Yeah," Jordan agreed, appearing slightly happier than before. "I ended up winning because I was lighter on my raft and I could paddle faster than him no matter how much he tried to keep up with me. Once he pushed me in because I splashed him, and he couldn't stop laughing at me, so I shoved him off his raft with my paddle while floating in the water." At the memory, Jordan's grey eyes seemed to grow more distant, though there was no denying the gleeful sparkle in his gaze. Roy smiled internally at this.

This would help him get an idea of Akuma's backstory and what they could use from it in order to catch him. Maybe, if he got the location of the river, the psychotic man could be found beside or near it.

"But it wasn't all good," Jordan said, his voice suddenly quiet and haunted, "not at all. No, when we got back to shore..."

 _"You beat me again, Jordie!" Akuma announced, flailing his paddle as he threw it onto the damp grass. "You've always been so much better at raft racing than me!" He pulled his raft inland using the twine tied to a nail in the wood and attached that to a metal screw that had been hammered into a large rock by their father a few weeks ago._

 _"I guess I'm just that good..." Jordan shrugged, copying his older brother's actions. Akuma opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by a chilling, unfamiliar voice coming from a dark shadow, the speaker veiled by the long tree branches._

 _"Hello, boys."_

 _Immediately, Akuma had his paddle in his grasp and was stood in front of his younger brother in an almost protective manner. His grey eyes were flared in fury as he warned the unidentifiable stranger away with his 'weapon', while Jordan stood behind his twin, shaking and throwing desperate glances at their house on the near horizon._ _"Get away!" he snarled darkly._

 _"Oh, I have no intentions of doing so..." the stranger purred in a seductive, perverted manner. Twigs snapped at he stepped closer. In the flickering orange light of the lantern they had lit beside the lake, something metallic glinted, revealing the shape of the object..._

 _A dagger._

Roy was pallid from minor fear. It was clear what was going to happen next, but he couldn't help but he nervous to hear Jordan's story. The ginger's hands were quivering as he quieted, seeing the Colonel's expression. "A dagger?" Roy repeated. "A man... one you don't know... sees two brothers innocently playing in a lake and approaches them with a dagger... oh, Lord..."

"Yeah," Jordan breathed, "and the worst of it was that Akuma tried to protect me. He stood in front of me, and wouldn't let me go anywhere."

"It just made it ten times harder, huh?"

"Mhm."

Roy wasn't sure whether he was pushing Jordan too far when he asked for the ginger youth to continue, but the Colonel was confident that this information would be useful for their investigation. It may not be crucial, sure, but anything helped at this point. They still had a murder to catch - Cato's murderer - and now there was a psycho on the loose. That is if the psycho and the murderer were different people. Whoop-de-fucking-do for him.

 _The stranger was quiet now, but before Akuma could do so much as open his mouth, the figure shot out from the shadows and raced toward them in a panicked blur of black leather and a gleaming dagger._ _"Akuma!" Jordan screamed, his voice tight and throat clenching as frightened sobs threatened to break out, "we have to go- w-we have to go get dad! Come on!"_

 _Akuma grabbed his younger brother's hand with his free one and ran ahead, pulling Jordan along as the two raced up the hill toward their house. There was no doubt that the stranger had been left behind, they were smaller and they knew this territory like the back of their hands-_

 _But he had longer legs._ Much _longer legs. It was only within a matter of seconds and he caught up to them with relative ease._

 _Jordan released a strangled cry as the back of his shirt was grabbed, pulling him away from his older brother's grasp and throwing him to the floor in one brutal movement. He was sure he felt a rib crack and a wonderful bruise blossom under his skin._ _In a blind panic of pain and terror, Jordan scrambled to his feet and looked around for Akuma. "Aki!" he called, spinning desperately. "Aki, call for me! Where are you?! AKI!"_

 _It was no use. The stranger was gone, as was his older brother, and the splash of blood that painted the grass did nothing to lead them to where they had disappeared to._

Roy couldn't help but be shocked at what Jordan shakily told him. They had tried to run to safety, run to somewhere where they had people who would protect them, but- but Akuma had still been taken. And blood... oh, blood- Akuma had been injured. Most likely stabbed as soon as Jordan had been thrown to the ground, in order to disable his movement and leave him open for a kidnapping.

 _The sickos in this world..._

And the fact that Akuma tried to protect him beforehand must have made it worse when he was taken away. If Roy's older brother (not that he had one, but still) had tried to shield him like that and ended up getting kidnapped instead of himself, Roy would have blamed it on himself and wallowed in depression for a good few years afterwards. How did Jordan deal with it?

"That's awful," he commented quietly, "and you were... nine? Ten?"

"We were both ten. He was older by three and a half minutes." Jordan paused apprehensively, wetting his cracked lips with his tongue. "After that, I ran home screaming and sobbing, and my parents called the police. They couldn't find him, though. They told us that he was most likely already dead and that they had conducted a full-on search before coming up completely empty. No one knew who the stranger was, or where he could have been."

Roy swallowed hard; the police had practically given up on the case. That must have been difficult to hear, especially after what they had been through at such a young age. "Did you not see what he looked like?" he asked, despite knowing it was hopeless. It wasn't like it really mattered right now anyway, but if they happened to find him, they would certainly be arresting him. That is if he were still alive. It was still very, very possible that the stranger was already dead, from disease, wounds, old age or otherwise.

"No... it was dark, and he wore a mask."

"Of course." Roy sighed and stood up. "D'you want me to get you coffee? Tea? Or maybe just plain water?"

Jordan laughed at something and the Colonel raised a brow, confused until the ginger actually responded. "It just occurred to me that Kai never came back with our coffees..." he chortled humorlessly, "yeah, I could do with a coffee if you please. Put in some milk and two sugars - I prefer weak coffee to the strong black stuff." He gave Roy a weak smile.

"Alright then, I'll try and find where the coffee machine is. By the way," Roy coughed awkwardly into his elbow, "thanks for telling me that story, Jordan - I have a few ideas of where we could find Akuma from it. It's indeed extremely useful to our investigation and it was probably bested you let it out sometime." He put his hand on the door handle and returned the grin.

"I want that sicko off the streets as much as you do, Colonel."

"Good," Roy said shortly. He moved his wrist to twist the door handle open, but his bone clicked as the door flung open from the outside and he was pulled out forcefully into the corridor. "Ow- what the fuck- that hurt!" he cursed, rubbing the appendage and glowering at the back of the figure's head. It was with great surprise that he noticed it was Charlie, who looked frightened and was visibly quivering even from behind.

"Sir!" he barked, voice shaking, "Kai's been attacked!"

Jordan shot up from his chair. "What? Kai- for fuck's sake- let's go-" Just then, Charlie interrupted his superior with a comedic giggle. The youthful ginger furrowed his brow. "Why're you laughing? Your subordinate and best friend have been attacked!" he retorted, his voice rising in a hint of anger as he pressed past the dark-haired medical assistant.

"I was joking," Charlie chortled, holding his hand to his stomach, "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and the other soldiers from Central arrived, is all." Roy's eyes automatically lit up. Finally! Some other people to talk to! He thought he was going to go insane waiting for their arrival.

"Fuck you," Jordan cursed jokingly before motioning for Roy to follow him down the corridor.

.

Briggs was cold. So much so, that even that old hag Eren Keller had been complaining about how he should have brought more layers.

Meanwhile, the rest of the soldiers he had brought with him were more prepared (especially Hawkeye, but she was ready for anything a lot of the time), and only Alf had moaned about numb toes while being transported to Briggs in a few ambulance vans (that was certainly an unexpected way of getting around, but the driver with the ponytail said that they couldn't take their actual trucks out yet so it was all they had).

Then, when they get there, the inside looks ten times more relaxing than it did on the outside. Sure, the concrete floors were a little odd, but the tan walls and dim yet comfortable lighting made the place appear homier than it should be. Breda had already found himself in one of the plastic chairs sat on the edge of a waylay in the hallway and Rui had happily accompanied him while the others stood in an awkward cluster in the middle of the corridor, much to the Briggs' soldier's dismay.

Randall had whispered, "this place is freezing," and nestled deeper into his thick military coat at least ten times by then. The young man was clearly unhappy with the temperature though no one seemed to pay attention to this and continued penguin-huddling like a bunch of idiots (except for Hawkeye - she did it like a professional penguin) in order to 'share body warmth' (they probably all looked pretty stupid, but it was working).

But everything looked up as soon as meaningful footsteps started down the hall and a figure they were all buzzing to see appeared.

The moment Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes saw that familiar mess of dark raven hair and a pair of ice-cold onyx eyes, accompanied by a royal navy military uniform and a recognizable pair of white gloves, he suddenly felt his heart lurch in that thrilling way that meant he was incredibly over the moon. And just to add to the excitement of seeing your best friend after a while of missing his presence, there was a tall blonde with stormy grey eyes and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth running around the corner behind him.

(There were other people too, but he doesn't care about them.)

"ROY-BOY!"

Roy froze immediately and his eyes widened a fraction before a wide grin broke out across his face. "Hello, Hughes!" he greeted warmly, despite the coldness of the Northern atmosphere around them. The unfamiliar young man stood beside him - with dark coffee hair, chocolate eyes, and tanned skin, with a doctor's outfit enveloping his average frame - gave the gaggle of soldiers behind Maes an uncertain look and then looked with a questionable expression to Havoc, who shrugged in response.

"We're all here. It was Hell getting them all into the ambulance vans - Feury nearly passed out from the smell of disinfectant," Maes chuckled, shaking his best friend's gloved hands and smiling. At this Roy looked over his shoulder at Feury, who was pulling a clearly reluctant Breda out of his seat to go and meet his superior for the first time in a little while.

The young bespectacled technician approached Roy with his familiar small, friendly grin, pulling him briefly away from the conversation between the two elder best friends. "Hello, sir," he said in his usual shy facade, "are you dealing with the cold well?" His dark eyes glittered in his known intelligence and his raven hair was frozen into place by the icy atmosphere around them. Even in the warmth of his royal navy military uniform, he was quivering and had his arms pressed tightly against his side in order to conserve body heat.

Before he could respond to the Sargent, Breda stepped in. "Colonel," he greeted, a smile enveloping his face as he gleefully shook Roy's hand, "Hawkeye has paperwork for you." He motioned to the blonde First Lieutenant behind the cluster of Forensics and Investigation with a large gloved hand and nestled deeper into his military uniform.

"Oh, joy," Roy grumbled monotonously. Breda laughed and looked at him with peaceful hazel eyes. "Miss Do-Your-Paperwork-Or-I'll-Shoot-You strikes yet again with what she does best; making me _groan_." He ran a hand tiredly through his messy raven hair and watched Hawkeye levelly as she finally approached him. If it weren't for the stack of paperwork and files in her arms, he would have been enthusiastic to see her.

The woman looked as beautiful as ever and she appeared warm and graceful despite being stood in an ice-cold corridor in a frozen environment. Those serious tendrils of chocolate in her dark eyes shone with a little affection, Hughes noticed, as she formally shook hands with the Colonel. Roy didn't look as enthusiastic at her presence and he was eyeing the stack of paperwork in her free arm a little suspiciously. No doubt was he dreading having to sit down and fill out those documents while being held at gunpoint later on in the evening.

"I was supposed to be on holiday, Lieutenant! Why do you have paperwork with you?!" he joked weakly in a vain attempt to make light of the situation. He grinned at her faintly but she didn't smile (or even look like she had emotions in the slightest) back - instead, she cocked an eyebrow at her immature superior and dumped the paperwork into his arms. With the weight of the documents, he let out a sharp breath and nearly fell onto his front.

"Hello, sir," she greeted, ignoring Roy's previous topic completely. "I trust you've been well and that you've been fulfilling your duties while on this _mission_?" She emphasized 'mission' as if to remind him that he was here on military business, but Roy took no notice of this and offered a hand out to her. Breathing out a sigh, she shook it formally and adjusted the Glock 22 pistol in the leather holster on her belt. The Colonel seemed to pale at the reminder that she had brought it with her.

Roy rolled his eyes. "When do I ever not fulfill my duties, Lieutenant?" he retorted with a snort. From across the corridor, Havoc, Feury, and Breda started laughing and practically fell into each other trying to calm down. The Colonel raised an eyebrow at them and looked at Riza, who was fingering her pistol in its holster and giving the three unimpressed glares.

Seeing the joke, Hughes suddenly fell into the pit of hysterics. He hammered his hand against his chest and collapsed backward into Breda. Through all the 'panic', no one seemed to hear that familiar noise that the Glock 22 pistols made when they were loaded. "Guys," Hughes wheezed heavily through his consistent laughter, "guys, this is military business-"

" ** _IF YOU DON'T STOP LAUGHING, I'LL GUN YOU FOUR DOWN RIGHT HERE_**."

Roy jumped out of his skin at Riza's sudden scream and immediately the corridor went quiet, though Randall and Alf were still muttering about the 'higher-ups being weirdos' under their breaths. Feury was practically having a panic attack, he had been so alarmed, and Breda was holding his stomach and breathing heavily. Meanwhile, Havoc exchanged an uncomfortable look with that unidentified brown-haired doctor and the ginger. Both of which were staring at Riza's gun in silent dismay.

"What's so funny?" Roy asked self-consciously.

"You," Havoc responded boldly. "You said that..." he laughed again and took a deep breath to steady himself, but alas, it made no difference. Roy looked clueless as he and Breda fell into hysterics once more.

"Oh, I see," the Colonel hummed, his brow furrowed, "you thought that it was funny when I said I always fulfill my duties. Well, I do, more than you lot do anyway."

Hughes wiped a tear away from his eye and said, "if you say so, Roy-Boy."

* * *

 _ahh, I think everyone was out of character... oh well. I can imagine Hughes doing that when he laughs really hard. XD also I don't think this chapter was as good as I wanted to be. I shall edit it later._

 _I have an excuse for my lateness! I have excuses! valid ones!  
(and I apologize for the long AN)_

 _ **excuse 1;** I had food poisoning. we all have  KFC to thank for that - luckily it seemed to have gone but I haven't regained my appetite as of yet and I'm very, very ill. my parents complained to them on both Facebook and Twitter. XD  
 **excuse 2;** writer's block. we all have it some time. the second half of the chapter was what triggered it; at first, I was gonna have Akuma attack Kai but then I realized how I needed to move the plot along and got Hughes + co to arrive finally.  
_

 _I know that it takes a few days on a train to go from Central to Briggs, but I shortened it considerably. that would enable me to move the plot along and it wouldn't make much of a change to the plot. if anyone complains about something that tiny and unaffecting to the plot, I swear to God I will punch something._

 ** _fact;_** _um... I wear black. constantly. all the time. oops._

 ** _PLEASE GO READ THE 'AKUMA MATATA' STORY ON LEXIECONEXTREME'S PAGE AND REVIEW ON IT TO MAKE ME HAPPY!_** _(LINK IN MY PROFILE)_

 _regarding reviews... you know the gist. I don't even need to say it._

 _thanks for reading,  
\- **royal**_


	11. AUTHOR'S NOTEPLEASE READ

**Hey, guys! Just a quick author's note from your good friend Royal here. (:**

 **Firstly, I would like to apologize for my lack of updates. Recently school started and I have been doing GCSE work every night, so much that I haven't had any time to be writing. I'm currently 4,398 words into the new chapter and I hope to get at least 5,500 in for a new chapter, so I'm nearly there. Just remember that I'm putting school first, my volunteer work second and my fanfiction writing third on my list of priorities.**

 **And I offer you a great chance to read something FANTASTIC while I'm still trying to work on school stuff and through my awful writer's block!**

 **I got my very intelligent friend into writing fanfiction and she has recently uploaded a new Fullmetal Alchemist story. I beta-read it for him and seriously, it is purely fantastic. Very well written, very intense, very good plotline. I prompt you to read it - since she he no life (and is homeschooled), he updates fairly quickly with a hefty 7.5k+ in each chapter.**

 **His username is 'alchemicwifi' and his story is called 'Truth be Told', by the way.**

 **I'm not saying that I'm giving up on this because there is no way I am going to stop writing this story. I may even be able to get a new chapter out tonight since I have a load of time (we went home early because the teachers are going to a funeral) on my hands, if I have any after finishing school work of course.**

 **I simply gave you that story so you can read something better then my (pretty awful) writing while I'm disappeared. XD**

 **I'll probably update by next week!**

 **Adios for now!**


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